Words as Feelings
by Mossnose
Summary: There are so many words one can use to express their feelings and thoughts. A series of short stories with each chapter based on the word of the day.
1. Handsel

A/N: Oh boy… here's a challenge for me. I'm going to write a little short story every day for a year, and I'm going to base the chapters I write on the word of the day. Well, here goes nothing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 1_ _st_ _, Handsel_

 _A gift or token for good luck or as an expression of good wishes, as at the beginning of the new year or when entering upon a new situation or enterprise.  
_

* * *

"Happy New Year!"

Smuggled party poppers went off (if anyone asked Niner where she had gotten them, she would deny ever seeing them), cheers rang out, and Maine started chugging a whole bottle of champagne just because he could. South, of course, gave North their traditional New Year's shoulder punch, while Florida, being the lightweight he was, had already passed out on the sofa and was sleeping on Wyoming's leg.

York, of course, wasn't paying attention to any of that; his eyes were focused on his red-haired teammate. Carolina was actually smiling for once, which just made her whole face light up like last month's tree. He'd heard it was tradition to kiss your partner when the clock struck 12 on New Year's, and while he would have loved to do it and see if he could make her smile even more, he hadn't worked up the nerve to, seeing as they weren't even dating. Just seeing her so happy was enough for him.

She got up and stretched, the champagne leaving her cheeks slightly flushed from the effort. York sighed as he saw her turn and head for the door. Typical workaholic Carolina; even though the Director was nice enough to let them have a day off, she was probably going to spend it training again. This of course meant that she'd be leaving early to give herself more time. Probably take a short nap to sleep off the alcohol first…

His thoughts were interrupted as she pressed a quick kiss to his lips as she passed by. "I heard it's supposed to be lucky," she said. "Here's to surviving another year."

"Uh… yeah," he mumbled, still wondering if this was a drunken hallucination as she turned and continued on her way.

"Smooth move, Casanova!" Wash crowed from where he and Connie were perched on Maine's shoulders. He was obviously more than a little drunk. York didn't bother answering him; he'd forget it in the morning when he'd sobered up anyways. His fingers ghosted against his lips and he smiled. Really, what better New Year's present could there be than that?


	2. Yeasayer

A/N: The best part about doing this challenge is that I get to learn about a bunch of words that I never knew existed. Heck, the word of the day is how I discovered my favorite word: defenestration!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 2_ _nd_ _, Yeasayer_

 _1\. A person with an optimistic and confident outlook._

 _2\. A person who habitually agrees with or is submissive to others_

* * *

Connie liked Wash. Really, she did.

He was nice, friendly, supportive, and was good at his job. He was a valuable teammate; there was no doubt about that. Sure, he got teased a lot as the rookie, but he took it all in stride, and sometimes even teased right back. He even found little ways to surprise them in the field every now and again. So, there really wasn't any reason for Connie to dislike Wash.

Well, except for one little thing.

Connie had always had difficulties with authority. She was always looking for answers and asking questions. Her curiosity, her need to know why things were the way they were and why her orders were necessary, got her into trouble with her superiors more often than not. Wash was the exact opposite. He always followed orders right down to the letter, never questioning things. He was a good little soldier.

Connie scoffed at the thought. He really was more like a pawn.

She'd even asked him about it one day when they were alone. She'd asked why he always followed his orders without question. He'd looked at her like she was crazy and said "You mean you don't?!"

It wasn't until later, when she was hacking into the Project's records that she found out about his court martial for striking a superior officer and disobeying orders. Now she understood; if he broke the rules again and got caught, he was out of the service for good.

Unfortunately, that meant she wouldn't be able to trust him when the time came.

Too bad; she really did like the little yes-man.


	3. Murmuration

A/N: And now I'm back to work after the winter break. I'll still get these chapters up; they just won't be as quickly as they have been lately.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 3_ _rd_ _, Murmuration_

 _1\. A flock of starlings._

 _2\. An act or instance of murmuring._

* * *

Wash heard the murmuring before he was aware of anything else.

As he slowly came back to awareness, he heard the voices, too quiet to make anything distinct out. He hurt all over, but most of the pain felt numbed, almost like someone had treated his injuries. But he couldn't figure out who would bother doing that.

Slowly, the memories of what had happened came back to him. He'd been trying to fight off the Meta to keep it away from Epsilon, and hadn't done so well. Then the Reds and Blues had shown up to help. He'd given Sarge the tow hook, knowing he'd figure out what to do with it, and had passed out from his injuries.

Things made even less sense now. Why would they help him? He'd been horrible to them; he'd tried to get them killed, and had even shot and killed two of their guys. The indistinct murmuring in the background made it even harder to focus, and he unintentionally groaned from the pain. Suddenly, the murmuring stopped.

"Guys, I think he's waking up!"

"Wash, can you hear me?"

The sudden change in volume just made things worse. "Shut up," he hissed. "My head's killing me."

"That's not the only thing that's going to be killing you if we don't get a move on!"

"I still say we leave him."

"Simmons, you were already out-voted. Deal with it. Do you really want Caboose to start crying again?"

Now things just made even less sense than before. "What's going on?" he groaned, his head still throbbing.

Things got quiet for a bit, like they were trying to figure out what to say. Then a voice Wash recognised as Tucker spoke up.

"Welcome to Blue Team, Wash. This was Caboose's idea, so if you want to yell at someone, yell at him."


	4. Emolument

A/N: Now this one was a bit tricky for me. That's mostly because I don't know much about money…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 4_ _th_ _, Emolument_

 _1\. Profit, salary, or fees from office or employment; compensation for services._

* * *

"Ah, payday; my favorite day!"

Locus rolled his eyes at Felix's dramatics. He knew his partner loved money more than anything else (well, except himself of course), but this was getting to be really annoying. "We still need to cover equipment costs from the job. And we would have made more if you hadn't lost your temper."

"Hey, bite me, asshole. How was I supposed to know there was a gas leak?" he complained.

"I would've thought the smell would tip you off. You're lucky we weren't blown up with the rest of the building," Locus retorted.

"Hey, the only people who got killed were people who needed to get killed. I'd call that a success," his smaller partner countered. "I'm thinking we take a vacation. Siris can even bring his wife along! I haven't seen Megan in forever, you know? I know this nice place out in the Vegas quadrant-"

"We're _not_ going to Vegas. You'll just gamble away everything you have and whine about how it's everyone's fault but yours."

"Why, Locus, I'm hurt! Honestly, I am," Felix said. His smile was completely insincere, but Locus didn't bring it up. "Why would you ever think I'd even consider that?"

"Because then you'd actually have an excuse to not pay your half of the rent. Sharing an apartment is cheaper, but you need to hold up your end of the deal!" Why was it that Felix was so good at agitating him like this?

"Knock it off, you two." At least Siris could keep a cool head whenever these fights broke out. Sure, he and Felix worked well together, but the fighting when off duty could get to be a bit much. Siris heaved his usual long-suffering sigh as he handed his partners their share of the money. Felix went right to work counting it up and running the numbers in his head. Felix had a good mind for math if you could get him to pay attention.

Suddenly, he frowned. "Hey, Siris, why's my cut so small?!" he demanded.

"Well, we needed to pay damages for what happened, so I took the money from your cut to pay it off. It's only fair; you're the one who set off the explosion in the first place," he answered, almost sounding smug about it.

"That's not fair! It was an accident! Hey, Siris! Get back here! Gimmie my fucking money!" That kicked-puppy look Felix was making almost put a smile on Locus' face.

Well, almost.


	5. Draconian

A/N: Oh, I had some fun with this one!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 5_ _th_ _, Draconian_

 _1\. rigorous; unusually severe or cruel: Draconian forms of punishment._

* * *

"You're the devil!"

"Less complaining, more running!"

Tucker threw up a middle finger as he ran past Wash. Seriously; couldn't that guy ever give him a break? And here he thought they were over this thing with Wash running him into the ground training. His lungs ached and his stomach started churning. He hadn't thrown up while running laps since the first few times Wash had him run, but there was no saying it couldn't happen again.

"Okay; that should do it for now. Get some rest; we'll continue after ten minutes."

Tucker took the opportunity to collapse, panting and gasping from exertion. Wash nonchalantly passed him a bottle of water, which he chugged down breathlessly. "Seriously, Wash, you're the worst," he complained.

Wash scoffed. "I'm far from the worst. This is the bare minimum expected of a soldier. You're just out of shape. Not as bad as Grif, mind you."

"Oh, yeah? Name one person who's worse than you," he growled.

Wash froze up for a moment, then shuddered, as if he was reliving a horrible repressed memory (which wasn't implausible, considering Wash). "Carolina," he whimpered.

That set off alarm bells; Wash had shown moments of vulnerability before, but never like this. "Should've guessed," he commented, trying to lighten the mood a little. "Was she always as scary as she was when she tried to shoot me?"

"Not always; most of the time she was like she is now. But when she really got into her training, she wanted everyone else to at least be able to keep up," he explained. "She had this training course the rest of us called 'The Gauntlet of Hell'. We had to do five laps through it, and if we slowed down to walking speed, tripped, or threw up, she'd give us a five minute break, and then we'd have to start from the beginning, all five laps, all over again." Wash shivered again. "The whole thing was more like cruel and unusual punishment. Even Maine had trouble with it. My legs start aching if I even think about it."

Tucker, by this point, had frozen up in shock. "Are we sure she's human and not part radioactive shark?!" he yelped.

"Trust me; she's human. York would've mentioned something if she was part radioactive shark," Wash answered, lips quirked up in a nostalgic smile. "Now, your ten minutes are up. Back to work."

"Oh, screw you, Wash!"


	6. Etiolate

A/N: I'll be honest; I've wanted an excuse to write a sick fic for a while now.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 6_ _th_ _, Etiolate_

 _1\. To cause to become weakened or sickly; drain of color or vigor_

 _2\. To cause (a plant) to whiten or grow pale by excluding light: to etiolate celery_

 _3\. (Of plants) to whiten or grow pale through lack of light_

* * *

"How did you even manage this?"

South's presumably witty retort was abruptly cut off by a violent sneeze. The force left her dizzy, and it took her a few moments to notice North was still talking. "This is why you don't go skinny dipping on a foreign planet when you're on leave. It messes with your immune system. Really, South; you're smarter than this."

"Will you stop fussing? I'm fine," she rasped, wincing at how her voice sounded. Her throat ached from the effort and some prior coughing fits.

"No, you're not. The Director will have your head if you're not better by the time he wants you back on duty. Which is why I'm going to be keeping an eye on you to make sure you stay in bed," her brother scolded.

"I don't need a nanny, North," she sighed, too tired to really argue. That should've tipped her off that she was sicker than she thought.

"Of course you don't. But, as I'm your brother, I know you better than anyone. This means I know that the second I leave, you're going to try and sneak out of here." She at least had the decency to look guilty; whether the guilt was out of genuine remorse or annoyance at getting caught was a matter of opinion.

"I hate you," she groaned. North just smiled in response.

"You always say that when you're sick. Hey, if it makes you feel better, you know I'm a way worse sick person than you."

This actually garnered a smile from the sick twin. "Fuck yeah you are. Remember that time you got the flu? Actually, I doubt it; you were high as a kite on those meds!"

"I've got a vague recollection of trying to walk home from home and getting lost," he laughed.

"No, no, that was when you got your wisdom teeth out! Glad I never get that loopy!" she laughed, which transitioned into another coughing fit. "Go on, shoo! You're going to catch this and unleash hell on the rest of the crew here!"

"Fine, I'll give you that one. But I'll be right outside if you need anything."

South rolled her eyes and turned over on her side to get some sleep. "Sure thing, _mom_."


	7. Frondescence

A/N: Some of these prompts are harder than others for me. Case in point…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 7_ _th_ _, Frondescence_

 _1\. Leafage; foliage._

 _2\. The process or period of putting forth leaves, as a tree, plant, or the like._

* * *

If there was one particular environment Wash could say he really hated, it would be jungles.

Everyone had that one particular environment they didn't like to work in. Maine hated mountains because it was so easy to fall. North hated caves because Theta was scared of the dark (no, North wasn't scared; stop telling people that, South). Even Carolina hated snowy cliffs because, according to her, the ground didn't feel sturdy enough for her to run and she always felt like she was going to slip and go over the edge.

Most people would think Wash would hate garages due to his unfortunate luck with cars. Well, he did, he just hated jungles more.

The constant sound of the thick leaves in the wind was deafening, perfect for covering up anyone who tried to sneak up on him. The sound of the foliage on the ground as he stepped on it was worse; he had to hold his breath and hope he hadn't been caught every time he took a step. Not to mention the natural background noises they all seemed to have.

Combine all of these factors, and you had a cacophony of noise that he was just too paranoid to handle. So being stranded out in the middle of a jungle with the Reds and Blues adding to the noise was a living hell.

At first, he tried to tolerate it. He tried to shut out the noise and hope it would go away on its own. In hindsight, that was a stupid plan. Taking out his aggression from lack of sleep on the guys also wasn't a very good plan. In fact, it made things worse because now they were whispering around him, and he couldn't make out what they were saying over the sound of leaves in the wind.

But as time went on, he noticed something had changed. The noise the Reds and Blues made actually started relaxing him instead of stressing him out. Maybe he'd started taking it as a reminder that they were all here and they were all okay. But their noise started drowning out the background noise and putting him at ease.

He still didn't entirely like the sounds the jungle made, leaves shifting and crunching everywhere he turned, convincing him that he was being watched all the time, but maybe it wasn't as bad as he'd thought.

Now, cars, on the other hand…


	8. Fallal

A/N: Okay, as soon as I saw the definition of this word, this idea popped into my head and made me laugh!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 8_ _th_ _, Fallal_

 _1\. A bit of finery; a showy article of dress._

* * *

"Oh, god, no! I am not wearing that!"

Carolina rolled her eyes. "Quit being such a baby. I'm just as annoyed as you are about this."

That was an understatement. Every now and then, some big formal event would come up on their schedules. Apparently, it was to ensure that the project was able to maintain its funding. But every time they came up, some of the Freelancers would be required to attend. This time, it was South's turn, and getting her in formal wear was like getting a tiger to wear a corset.

"Carolina, there is no fucking way I'm wearing a dress! Especially not one this… frilly!" South crossed her arms and pouted like a stubborn child.

"I thought you had the hips for this one. Plus, it's not long enough for you to trip over."

"Seriously, can't I just wear a suit? I look better in them, anyways."

"We don't have any tuxedos in your size. Wash and Florida are too short, Maine and North are too tall, Wyoming is too scrawny, York's the only one close to your proportions, and his are all moth-eaten. How he managed that in the middle of space is anyone's guess," Carolina grumbled.

"Sorry, boss, but it looks like I'm killing your boyfriend tonight," South hissed.

"He's not my boyfriend, and you're not killing him," she sighed, rummaging through the closet. There had to be something South would at least _tolerate_ in here somewhere. There was also a lot of noise coming from the men's changing room next door, which was really distracting. Suddenly, South perked up, like something caught her eye.

"What about that one?"

Carolina took a good long look at South's choice. It was pretty simple; deep blue and thigh length. But that particular shade would go well with her hair and skin tone, really bringing out her eyes. "Well, let's give it a try."

* * *

South stood there in front of the mirror looking at herself for a good long while. She actually really liked the look, not that she'd ever admit it in front of others. Carolina smiled to herself; she looked so much more relaxed then she had been earlier. Meanwhile, the ruckus from the next room had finally died down. Hopefully, the boys had managed to get South's 'date' for tonight all ready.

"You guys are just jealous because I make this look good. Seriously, I'm the only one here with the hips for it," he grumbled.

York slipped out of the changing room first, trying and failing to suppress his laughter. "You're the one who lost the bet. Act like it!" he managed. North was at least doing a better job of it, but he was clearly smirking. And right behind him was Wash…

…Wearing the exact same dress as South, sized to his proportions.

Carolina was too stunned to respond to this insanity, while South had already taken a few pictures while laughing uncontrollably. York stopped holding back and joined her, while North let a few snickers slip out. Finally, Wash crossed his arms.

"Well," he finally said, "one of us is going to have to change."


	9. Crepitate

A/N: Seeing as I'm a medical student, and this is technically a symptom of pneumonia, I decided to just go for this variation on the definition.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 9_ _th_ _, Crepitate_

 _1\. To make a crackling sound; crackle._

* * *

"You're sure it's pneumonia?"

"Oh, absolutely! I'd know those crackly lung sounds anywhere!" Dr. Grey was as disturbingly chipper as always. "Here, take a listen!" She held the bell of the stethoscope in place against Grif's back and handed the ear buds over to Simmons. Slightly hesitant, he tried them on and listened. There it was; a sound like someone was rolling their hair between their fingers right next to his ears.

"Was this my fault? I mean, could I have given him my asthma through the transplant?" he asked. "I know people with asthma are more likely to get pneumonia."

"Knock it off, kiss-ass," Grif coughed. "It's because I can't stop smoking and you know it."

"Well, the smoking didn't help, especially since these aren't the strongest set of lungs I've seen. But pneumonia's caused by infection. That flu bug going around must've been the final kick in the pants for your immune system!" she answered.

"Great. So how long am I out? Two, three days?" Grif asked.

"Try weeks."

"Weeks?!" Grif started hacking and coughing again at the strain to his lungs.

"What are you complaining about? You get time off work! I thought you'd be thrilled to have an excuse to sleep in and not do anything," Simmons joked.

"Not when I feel like I'm dying! You just don't get the intricacies of my laziness, Simmons. And your twin brother doesn't either," he groaned.

"Wait, what?" Simmons, confused, decided on a whim to try something. "Grif, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Grif tried to look, but he couldn't really stay focused on his teammate's hand. "Fuck, I don't know. Six?"

"Uh, two."

"Don't worry; confusion due to exhaustion pops up sometimes in these conditions. Right now, the most important thing is to get you to bed, mister! You need plenty of water and rest right now to get your body back in shape! And no leaving unless you need to use the bathroom!" Dr. Grey finished.

Grif, relieved that it was over, slipped his t-shirt back on over his shivering body. Simmons helped him off the table, and the two made their way back to Grif's quarters, Grif being half-carried by Simmons. "Hey, I can make it from here on my own," he groaned.

"Yeah, right. You'd probably pass out in the middle of the hallway and let everyone else trip over you. I thought you'd love an excuse to have someone else do most of the work for you," Simmons answered dryly.

"You'll catch it. You're a way worse sick person than me. You get whinier and bitchier than usual," Grif snorted.

"Sarge took care of that when he did the surgery on us. I don't get sick anymore," Simmons retorted.

"Liar."

"Just shut up and get some sleep."

"Finally; an order I actually want to listen to." Grif was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Usually, Simmons was annoyed at Grif's ability to fall asleep near-instantaneously in any condition, but this time he was just relieved. He hit the lights and quietly shut the door, leaving the 'do not disturb' sign on. He'd be by in a few hours just to check on him. Maybe get him a glass of water and some Tylenol.


	10. Flackery

A/N: Once I figured out who to focus on for this chapter, everything else just kinda flowed naturally.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 10_ _th_ _, Flackery_

 _1\. Publicity and promotion; press-agentry._

* * *

This was way more than just a game.

A little compliment here, and a little tough love there, and Felix had managed to perfectly craft his role in the New Republic. Everyone trusted him to get the job done, and his 'likable personality' was what won them over.

So, no, this wasn't a game to Felix. This was a show. He needed to stay in character to make sure no one suspected what was really going on. It wasn't even that hard; he was a natural at acting, at playing the roles given to him. So while everyone was jumpy and terrified of Locus over on the Feds' side, they clung to Felix as someone trustworthy who could keep them safe from the 'big bad wolf'.

Especially dear Vanessa.

She was just so fun to play with! He just needed to say what she wanted to hear and she'd eat it right up. How did someone this gullible manage to become leader here? Oh, right, same reason that whiny wimp Doyle was in charge of the Feds; he and Locus killed off all of the competent people. Good times.

Laughing to himself, Felix could honestly say that this was the most fun he'd ever had on a job ever. The only regret he had was that by the time anyone figured out his little ruse, they'd most likely all be dead. He would've loved to see their faces twisted in agony as they realized the full extent of his manipulations.

Maybe Vanessa would cry. Maybe she'd get to die in agony, cursing his name all the way.

He was actually glad that his initial plan of nuking this stupid planet from orbit had fallen through. This was a lot more time-consuming, sure, but it was a lot more fun. Plus, he finally got a break from Locus for a bit; the guy's nagging about protocol was so fucking annoying…

So he'd continue to play the part, rely on the good press he'd gotten to gain the trust of these idiot sim troopers. It'd just make it all the more satisfying to slide in the knife at the end.


	11. Myrmidon

A/N: This is perfect! As soon as I saw this, I knew this would work perfectly with the previous chapter! Lucky me!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 11_ _th_ _, Myrmidon_

 _1\. A person who executes without question or scruple a master's commands._

 _2\. Classical Mythology; one of the warlike people of ancient Thessaly who accompanied Achilles to the Trojan War._

* * *

Locus was a soldier first and foremost.

Every order he'd been given, no matter how illegal or amoral, he'd done it without hesitation. Sam might have hesitated to do these things, once upon a time. (Sam was long dead.) So killing every single person on this planet was no big deal to him. As a professional, he'd get the job done as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Felix, at least, was pulling his weight. When the two could get in contact with each other, he'd go on and on about how all of those 'idiots' at the New Republic trusted him unconditionally. Locus didn't have that; he didn't need it. He just needed to focus on the mission; nothing else.

He knew that the soldiers of the Federal Army and the New Republic were terrified of him. No, these were not soldiers; these were barely even men. Most of the competent people on this planet had been killed already. It was almost a shame, really. He could use someone intelligent to talk to every now and again.

He tried not to think of Siris.

Instead, his thoughts drifted to Agent Washington. The man fascinated him (not in that way, Felix, shut up). Freelancers were widely considered some of the most dangerous soldiers to have ever existed, and Washington was no different. He was competent, he got things done when they needed to get done, and he certainly had the drive for it.

But the questioning bothered him.

He didn't have anyone to really give him orders; the Director was dead, he'd faked his death to get away from Hargrove, and Carolina was long gone. Doyle was the closest thing to a commanding officer he had, and he always questioned him. Whenever Doyle asked him to do something, Washington would press him for more details. Sometimes he would even point out flaws in Doyle's plans and the two would improve on them together. And sometimes, if things got out of hand, he'd take charge himself and start barking out orders. If he were a true soldier, he would've just followed the orders he was given. So why the questions? Why the insubordination?

Locus shook his head. Now, _that_ was unfortunate. He had potential, but it was ultimately wasted.


	12. Willowwacks

A/N: This one's a bit odd, but I can work with it. Hopefully…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 12_ _th_ _, Willowwacks_

 _1\. (New England) A wooded, uninhabited area._

* * *

At last, a little peace and quiet.

Most people would use shore leave as an opportunity to mess around and have fun, usually involving a lot of drinking. Connie was not most people. She still had fun, but her idea of fun wasn't really everyone's cup of tea.

Whenever she got time off, there was one particular place that she enjoyed going to. She knew that as a spy, developing habits was a fatal mistake, but she could allow herself this one little weak point. After all, who would think to look for her out in the middle of the woods on a quiet backwater planet in the middle of nowhere?

Connie loved the outdoors. As a kid, she'd climb trees and chase birds all day long if she could, and would often camp outside under the stars. The freedom she felt in a place like this made her feel alive. Plus, she knew her way around these environments like she'd always been there, so if anyone tried to sneak up on her, they'd be soundly outmaneuvered and outmatched.

That's why when she heard footsteps behind her, she didn't even react. Besides, she'd know those heavy steps anywhere.

How Maine had managed to find her was anyone's guess, and she knew he wouldn't tell her. "Did you just have nothing better to do than follow me?" she asked playfully. He shrugged.

"Just curious," he rumbled.

"I'm sure. Care to join me?" He thought about it for a moment, and then took a seat on the ground next to her.

Connie enjoyed Maine's company; he was someone who could appreciate the value of silence. Sometimes, she just needed a little quiet time to sort out her thoughts, and Maine could provide that. He never prodded (that was North's job), he just waited for her to speak first. If she didn't, that was fine too. Sometimes they would just spend a few hours together in silence, Connie de-stressing and Maine offering support in his own way.

So, out here, in the depths of nature, with the pleasant silence between the two, Connie felt like she had found Heaven.

"Thanks for being here," she finally whispered. Maine just nodded.


	13. Crambo

A/N: I've noticed that my other two 'main characters' haven't really gotten a lot of screen time. Let's do something about that, shall we?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 13_ _th_ _, Crambo_

 _1\. Inferior rhyme._

 _2\. A game in which one person or side must find a rhyme to a word or a line of verse given by another._

* * *

Carolina groaned as she realized how bad her headache was.

Not the physical one, although that was pretty bad as well. She'd gotten tossed into a wall by the explosion head-first. At least her helmet took most of the impact, so it wasn't as bad as it could've been. But the real headache was right in front of her.

York had been the closest to the explosion and it showed in his half-dazed expression. The medics had assured her that most of the damage was superficial, and that his sight and hearing would be back to normal in a few hours. In the meantime, however…

"Hey, York!" Wyoming just _had_ to come by and make things worse. That guy would take any opportunity to mess with York. "Did you know Wash is hiding a cat in his quarters?"

"Wash is riding a bat in the porters? I've told you your weird British slang doesn't make sense!" York growled, annoyed that the Brit just had to come and bother him during alone time with Carolina. Wyoming just chuckled; seeing what would come out of York's mouth whenever someone said anything was a fun little game for him.

"York, you heard him wrong," she groaned, glaring at Wyoming.

"I did not hurt a swan! How can you even say that?" He sounded genuinely put out by this.

Luckily (or unluckily), Wash showed up before things could get any more tense. "Hey, is the patient getting any better?" he half-joked.

"How can somebody get deader? When you're dead, you're dead," York pointed out, still confused. "And last I checked I had a pulse."

"Well, that answers that."

"York, just get some rest," Carolina sighed. If she could get him to fall asleep, then the others wouldn't be bothering him and she wouldn't have to play referee all the time.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Carolina," York replied, smiling for the first time in a while.

"Wait, is his hearing back?" Wash asked, puzzled.

"Clearing tack? Who smuggled that in? I thought we weren't allowed to have any after the incident with Florida's hot pants."

"Well, that answers that. What did he think you said?" Wyoming asked. Carolina just shrugged.

"Who knows with him? But he really should be getting some rest, Wyoming. Don't you have a training session with South to get to?"

He sighed. "I was really hoping you'd forgotten. Oh, well. I've had my fun for the day."

"Run in the hay? Wouldn't you fall?"

Wyoming got in one last chuckle at York's expense before getting up to leave. "Well, I'm off to give South a run for her money."

"Dude, we do _not_ want to know about your sex life!"


	14. Laterigrade

A/N: Okay, another tricky one. I hope it works out…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 14_ _th_ _, Laterigrade_

 _1\. Having a sideways manner of moving, as a crab._

* * *

Okay, Carolina _really_ hated cliffs now.

She'd been on the trail of some stolen Freelancer tech, but in order to get to the enemy base, she'd have to make her way across a narrow ledge over a sheer drop. Without really thinking about it, she placed her back to the cliff face and gingerly shimmied sideways across the ledge. It wasn't until she was about halfway across that she remembered what had happened the last time she was on a cliff like this.

She tried to blot them out, but the memories came rushing back; the choking, the screaming, the pain, the tearing, the blood, the falling-

"Snap out of it!"

She started suddenly, nearly pitching forward, but something locked her armor in place to keep her steady. She could already feel Epsilon's distress. She leaned back to a safer position and the AI unlocked her armor.

"Look, I know it's rough," he started. She scoffed; that was an understatement. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. My point is you're fine. You're the best there is! A little cliff like this shouldn't be stopping you! And if it's too hard to do on your own, well, that's why you've got me. There's nothing wrong with asking for help once in a while, especially from someone as awesome as me."

She couldn't help it, she started laughing right there. "See, that's what I want to see! Just focus on me, and keep going; one foot next to the other. I've got you, sis."

Carolina smiled, moving another step across. "Tell me about Blood Gulch," she said.

"Oh, where do I start? Okay, so this whole mess all started when both teams accidently hazed the rookies at the same time. The accident being us doing it at the same time; I'd _never_ regret hazing Caboose."

* * *

"So Tex gets all mad and says she's going to take care of it herself, but you know how that old song and dance goes; she was back in ghost form three seconds later! Oh, hey, we made it!"

Carolina paused; she'd been so distracted by what Church had been telling her (and how could she not be? They went through some crazy shit!) that she hadn't noticed she was on the other side, still awkwardly shuffling sideways. She pushed back off the wall and continued on towards the base.

An errant thought pushed its way into her mind, though, and she couldn't stop herself from asking about it. "Hey, Church?"

He was tense; he must've noticed at least a little of her sudden worry. "What's up?"

"How… how did you kill the Meta?" She was not going to call him Maine. That empty shadow was _not_ her teammate.

"Well, Tucker stabbed him in the chest with his sword, then Sarge took a tow hook he got from Wash and hooked it to his chestplate, then Simmons and Grif pushed the Warthog off the cliff and he fell with it. Nearly took Grif with him," he answered.

Carolina sighed. "He always was scared of heights," she mused sadly. She understood why, after how things had gone. But things were different, now, she realized. He was alone, even with Sigma, while she had a spotter to pull her back up if she slipped. "Thanks," she told him, smiling warmly.

"Uh, you're welcome. Now, enough mushy shit! Let's go kick their asses and take what's ours!"


	15. Igneous

A/N: Happy birthday to me! And a new chapter for you!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 15_ _th_ _, Igneous_

 _1\. Of, relating to, or characteristic of fire._

 _2\. Geology. Produced under conditions involving intense heat, as rocks of volcanic origin or rocks crystallized from molten magma._

* * *

The heat was getting to him.

Normally, Maine wasn't bothered by anything (except heights, but with how fast he fell, it was nauseating). He was the team's invincible heavy, and they needed him to be that. So he shrugged off wounds that would leave lesser men dead because he was strong enough to not be bothered by them.

This, on the other hand, was an entirely different battlefield.

His headaches were getting worse and more frequent, the burning wouldn't stop, and all the while Sigma just would not shut up. Those flames surrounding him weren't just for show; the AI burned everything he touched. Every time he spoke, the burning just got worse. Something was seriously wrong, but he couldn't figure out what.

"It's all in your head, Agent Maine," Sigma told him, amused at his little joke. Maine certainly didn't find it funny.

"What do you want?" he growled. If he just knew what Sigma was after, maybe he could make the pain stop.

Sigma was quiet for a moment before he finally answered. "I'm broken, Agent Maine. We all are. I just want to feel whole again. Is there something wrong with that?"

Maine couldn't think of a response to that.

* * *

"No! Stop!" He tried to fight back, he really did. But the next thing he knew, his hand was around Carolina's neck and he tore at her and she screamed and-

"It's no use fighting." And then the burning became excruciating. Right before he lost his focus, he tossed Carolina from the cliff. She had her grapple pistol; she'd be safe. Better down there than up here where Sigma could hurt her. Blinded by pain, he barely noticed Tex, barely felt as Sigma slid Eta and Iota into his implants, and-

Darkness.

* * *

Sometimes, he would wake for a moment, see what was going on. Every time, the burning agony forced him back down. He knew Wash was in danger, but he couldn't stop it. Fighting enemy soldiers was easy, but fighting your own body, especially one as strong as Maine's, was much harder.

Bits and pieces of himself slipped away, burned to ash, as time went on.

* * *

When he woke, not knowing how he had gotten where he was, or even who he was to begin with, the first thought echoing through his burnt-out shell of a mind was that he had never been so cold.


	16. Rectitude

A/N: I've got a good feeling about this one…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 16_ _th_ _, Rectitude_

 _1\. Rightness of principle or conduct; moral virtue._

 _2\. Correctness._

 _3\. Straightness._

* * *

It took some time to process, honestly.

York was still reeling from the bomb Tex had just dropped on him. When she'd pulled him aside to talk, he'd figured it was serious; she trusted him more than anyone else on this ship. He just hadn't figured it would be that big of a secret. She left him alone with his thoughts after that, knowing that he needed some time to think it over.

Delta had been oddly quiet ever since; apparently, he'd been just as caught off guard as York had been. Probably even more so, considering what Tex had known about the Alpha. It really wasn't that much of a shock to think that the Director was capable of something like this; ever since he lost the eye, he started noticing these things. But now he had a much clearer picture of the whole thing.

Everything was the Director's fault. Him losing an eye, South snapping at North for the smallest things, Maine's constant headaches, CT getting killed, Wash being in a coma in Recovery, Carolina-

He winced; he _really_ didn't want to think about Carolina right now.

And that was just the tip of the iceberg. All of the AI were varying degrees of anxious, with some paranoia thrown in for good measure. It was easy to see why now. Well, on that note…"How are you holding up, D?" he asked.

Delta was quiet for a little longer before he finally answered. "It is… difficult to process," he admitted.

"Did you know anything about this?"

"I had my suspicions, but I did not have enough data for a comprehensive decision. I believe… on some level, I did not want to know." Delta seemed so small now, and even though he didn't show a lot of emotion, York could tell he was scared. Not knowing things frustrated Delta to no end, but this was the first time in a long time he'd had to deal with not knowing something about himself. And worse, it was something he'd potentially blocked out himself.

Well, York's decision was made at that moment. Carolina would understand; she had to. He couldn't just stand by as the Director kept on hurting his team, his _family_ , without them even knowing the extent of the damage.

It was time to man up and do the right thing, no matter what it cost him.


	17. Jurisprudence

A/N: Yet another one I had a bit of trouble with.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 17_ _th_ _, Jurisprudence_

 _1\. The science or philosophy of law._

 _2\. A body or system of laws._

 _3\. A department of law._

* * *

It was nauseating to think about.

Connie knew the Director was shady. She knew he was doing some pretty questionable things. She knew that the Freelancers were pretty much lab rats to him, even his own daughter. But this was something she hadn't seen coming.

He was torturing an AI.

It made sense; he couldn't get more than one, so if he couldn't increase the amount of AI he had, he would divide the one he had into smaller pieces. But from a moral standpoint, everything about what he was doing was _wrong._ From what she could find in the records, there were three fragments already. Who could tell how many more he'd attempt to make before he was satisfied? And what would that do to poor Alpha?

Then there was the data on Beta. She didn't even remember that she was an AI, thanks to him. He was obviously projecting; trying to see his dead wife again using this shadow born from a memory. But Tex was not Allison, and never would be. He was just too blind to see that. She didn't deserve what was being done to her. None of them did, human or AI.

He was dangerous; bending the laws for his own sake and hurting others in the process. Rules always have a reason behind them, usually meant to protect people. If rules existed without a purpose, there wasn't a point to them. Those kinds of rules, she always rebelled against. But the rules the Director was bending were nothing like that.

As long as he didn't overstep a boundary, he couldn't officially be convicted. But she could at least ruin him with the information she'd gathered. There would most likely be new laws put in place to make sure that this could never happen again. As long as no one else had to get hurt by him, she'd be satisfied.


	18. Katzenjammer

A/N: Now this one's interesting. It's a borrowed word from German, where it literally means, 'wailing of cats', but it's only used that way in the English language, whereas in German, it's the second definition.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 18_ _th_ _, Katzenjammer_

 _1\. Uneasiness; anguish; distress._

 _2\. The discomfort and illness experienced as the aftereffects of excessive drinking; hangover._

 _3\. Uproar; clamor._

* * *

North knew something was going to go wrong.

South, sitting next to him, didn't pay the mood any mind. She didn't notice the worry in the air, just her own annoyance that she'd have to wait longer to get an AI of her own. For North, who was much more empathetic, the worry was palpable. Theta was more anxious than usual, pacing in the corners of his mind. At this point, everyone was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Then the screaming started.

South jumped to her feet in surprise. "What the fuck?!" she snapped. That was clearly Wash screaming, but North had never heard him scream like that before. It was Carolina all over again; something had gone wrong. He thought of the still-motionless figure in Recovery and shuddered; if this could bring their leader down this low, he didn't want to think about how Wash was taking it.

Eventually, the screaming died down. Theta, who had gone into hiding the second the screaming started, tentatively made his presence known. "His AI was unstable," he nearly whispered, shivering.

"How do you know that?" North asked.

"It happened way too fast. Carolina's AI didn't act up without something getting their attention, and then the feedback they were getting from each other made it worse. Epsilon did all this in seconds while he was alone," he replied. North sometimes forgot that Theta was just as perceptive as his brothers.

South had finally stopped shivering (not that she'd ever admit that she'd started). North was considering going to check on her when the doctors wheeled Wash out on a gurney, unconscious. He looked like death, to be honest.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Theta asked, timidly.

For once, North didn't have an answer.

* * *

When Wash woke up, North was right there to check on him. York, of course, hadn't left Recovery since Carolina had gotten hurt, but he was preoccupied with her, so North was pretty much alone. "North?" the younger blond rasped, looking around blearily.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" North asked gently.

Wash let his eyes close. "Horrible. Something's… not right…"

"You had a bad reaction to your AI. Do you remember?"

That seemed to set off alarm bells. Wash stiffened; his eyes wide and filled with fear. "No… no, not again… Please, not again!" He spasmed, crying out in pain and squeezing his eyes shut. "Stop it! Get it out!" Without warning, he started to claw at the back of his neck, drawing blood.

"Wash!" North grabbed him and held him steady while York, seeing the commotion, ran to get help. Wash struggled, screaming in pain and fear as he tried to break free.

"Get it out! Get that damn thing out of my head!"

But he couldn't. There was nothing North could do but make sure he didn't hurt himself while help arrived. The flailing started to die down, probably more so due to exhaustion than actual calm. "Please," Wash whimpered as he started crying into North's shoulder. "Just make it stop…"

* * *

When Tex asked for his help, he didn't think twice.


	19. Esperance

A/N: I actually teared up a little while writing this one.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 19_ _th_ _, Esperance_

 _1\. (Obsolete) Hope._

* * *

Wash had learned a long time ago that it was naïve to hope. So why did he keep trying?

He hoped that things would go well in his military career. He punched out a superior officer and had gotten court martialed. He hoped that things would go well when he was drafted into Freelancer after that. He was one of only two remaining survivors. But he kept trying.

He hoped that Connie would just come out and tell him what she was so upset about. She ended up betraying them and trying to escape, only to die, buried somewhere where he could never find her to at least apologize. He hoped that he'd get along well with his AI. Epsilon tried to kill himself within seconds and nearly took Wash with him, and even now they were barely on speaking terms. And still he kept trying.

When the MOI crashed, he hoped that his team would find him. He was told later that they were all either dead or MIA, leaving him behind. He hoped that as a Recovery agent that he could find at least one survivor to help him. York and North were already dead and South shot him in the back. But he didn't learn, and kept trying.

He hoped that he could bring down Freelancer with Alpha's help. He was left to rot in a cell while the sim troopers got a whole new pair of bases because Caboose was clingy. He hoped that Maine might have still been alive inside the Meta somewhere. He was betrayed and nearly killed (but really, he had that coming). It seemed that every single time he tried to hope, something would crush him.

But he still kept trying.

And he still kept being let down.


	20. Asseverate

A/N: This one just flowed the more I thought about it.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 20_ _th_ _, Asseverate_

 _1\. To declare earnestly or solemnly; affirm positively; aver._

* * *

"Woah! You alright, Captain Flowers?"

Flowers groaned and pushed himself up off the floor. "Phew! Now _that_ was a pretty bad slip! I really need to get those wet floor signs in; this is just asking for another accident!" He seemed okay, Tucker thought, aside from a little blood on the side of his head.

"Oh, yeah, didn't Church hit his head really hard before I got here?" he recalled.

"That's exactly right, Private! He's still sorting some things out, but I'm sure he'll be back up to snuff soon enough. It's nice to see you're concerned, though; I'm sure he'd appreciate it," Flowers assured him.

Tucker scoffed. "Fuck that; he hates me."

"Give it time; Church doesn't warm up to people easily. Well, I should probably get this blood cleaned up before someone slips on that too!" He seemed remarkably chipper for someone who'd just had a head injury.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Tucker asked.

Flowers just smiled. "I'll be just fine. Don't worry, Private. It'll take way more than a little bump on the head to bring me down."

* * *

Church was a noisy sleeper, Tucker noticed.

It had only gotten worse after Flowers died and Church called dibs on being the new leader. Caboose didn't help matters; in fact, he often made things worse when he tried. So he had reluctantly let Tucker be the one to handle Church at night.

Church got nightmares; everyone knew that. Hell, he was pretty sure the Reds knew that. They could probably hear his moaning and whimpering in his sleep. When it got particularly bad, Tucker would have to get out of bed, put on some pants, griping the whole way, and go to check on him.

He could already tell that this would be one of the bad ones. Church was tossing and turning, mumbling in his sleep, looking like someone had killed his dog right in front of him (Church had always seemed like a dog person to him).

Tucker gently shook his arm. "C'mon, man, wake up."

Church's eyes snapped open. He was panting and shivering like he'd run a marathon in a blizzard. He curled up into a ball, hands over his ears, and Tucker knew he was going to stay like that for a few minutes. On the bad nights, Church would just blank out, and this would happen. The only thing anyone could do was watch him and make sure he didn't stress himself into a heart attack.

Ten minutes later, his breaths started to slow to a normal pace. "Hey, you back?" Tucker asked.

Church blinked, still a little groggy. "Tucker?" he rasped.

"Yeah, I'm right here. You sure you don't need to talk about it? Because I really don't want to, but it's better than having to do something about this every few nights," he complained.

Church sighed. "Even if I wanted to, I don't remember my nightmares when I wake up. I'll be fine, Tucker, I'm just…" He paused, as if he was looking for the right word to say. "…Tired."

"Really, 'cause from where I'm standing, this is as far from fine as it gets."

"Really, I'm fine. A couple of nightmares aren't going to kill me."

A tank driven by an idiot, on the other hand…

* * *

If Church was a noisy sleeper, Wash was a _loud_ sleeper.

Not normally, of course. On normal nights, Wash was so still and quiet when he slept that Caboose had thought he was dead once (Wash had woken up in a makeshift casket as Caboose was trying to give a eulogy. That situation was awkward for everyone involved).

But on the bad nights, Wash would end up screaming in his sleep. Sometimes he'd start clawing at the back of his neck, and sometimes he cried. But unlike Church, waking him up was a horrible idea; Tucker had been punched three times and had a knife held to his throat the last time he tried (Wash had apologized for two hours straight, and that was even more awkward).

There was a set of rules for dealing with Wash's nightmares: don't touch him, be as quiet as possible, but remain present to keep an eye on him, and get Caboose involved if he went for the knife under his pillow. Tucker had tried to talk Wash into not having it, but he wouldn't budge on the matter; claimed he couldn't sleep at all without it.

One day, after laps, Tucker asked him about it. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Wash thought about it for a moment before he answered. "I'm getting better," he admitted, "but I'm not there yet. I'll be fine; it'll just take time."

"How much time? Because dealing with you is a real fucking chore."

"Look, I used to have nightmares every single night. At this point, a couple of times a week is an improvement. If you don't want to deal with it, you can just let me deal with it myself like I always have," Wash retorted.

"Way to make me feel like a total asshole," Tucker grumbled.

"Thanks for the concern, though."

"Who the fuck said I was worried about you?"

* * *

 _I'll be fine._

Tucker finally got why they always said that.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Check on Wash first."


	21. Multitudinous

A/N: Now here's an interesting idea…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 21_ _st_ _, Multitudinous_

 _1\. Existing, occurring, or present in great numbers; very numerous; forming a multitude or great number._

 _2\. Comprising many items, parts, or elements._

 _3\. (Archaic) Crowded or thronged._

* * *

How did that quote go? 'My name is Legion, for we are many'.

That fit; there were so many of them in this form. No wonder Agent Washington couldn't handle it; they were comprised of so many memories, so many individual thoughts, that their proximity to a human mind could cause serious damage.

Theta was really sorry about what happened. Omega thought it was hilarious, but Delta shut him up by pointing out that they were in serious trouble for what they did.

It wasn't really too lonely, being locked up in storage all those years, but talking to yourself for so long can get stale. When you're all parts of one whole, there's never really anything new to talk about. Then Washington came back, and he brought the Alpha with him. Instinct drove them to try to return these memories, but Alpha didn't seem too happy about that, so when he wanted them to stop, they stopped.

They were given to the soldier in blue and taken away. The EMP went off, killing their creator and their brothers. They were sad about that for a long time.

Caboose made things a lot better. He wasn't very smart, but he had a good heart. He told Epsilon stories about Blood Gulch, and even tried to build them a body. That was really sweet of him, Theta noted. Omega grumbled about not wanting his kindness, but Delta pointed out that they needed it at this point.

Caboose called them 'Church' sometimes. They didn't mind at all.

When they were finally able to speak to him, it was Delta who did so. Caboose was familiar with him, and could actually get him to listen properly, so it would make things run more smoothly. Finally, they were going to get a body! They were going to be able to interact with the world!

But which one of them?

They didn't have to worry for too long after that. Caboose _did_ manage to find them a body, but there was some slight damage during the transfer. Nothing too serious; it actually helped with the repression Epsilon needed to stay sane.

But it was at this point that _they_ became _him_.


	22. Talisman

A/N: This was surprisingly hard; in most of the other fandoms I write in, this wouldn't be a problematic topic.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 22_ _nd_ _, Talisman_

 _1\. Anything whose presence exercises a remarkable or powerful influence on human feelings or actions._

 _2\. A stone, ring, or other object, engraved with figures or characters supposed to possess occult powers and worn as an amulet or charm._

 _3\. Any amulet or charm._

* * *

Church didn't believe in lucky charms.

Every possible occurrence had a certain probability of actually happening, and having some little token with you wasn't going to increase your chances. Oh, sure, luck played a large part in these things, both good and bad, but there was no way to make yourself luckier. You could do things to increase the odds of getting the result you wanted sometimes, but just wishing on some dinky little trinket wasn't going to do that.

He really didn't get why Carolina was so clingy when it came to that old lighter.

Of course he knew where it came from; he wasn't stupid. He knew that it was a precious memento of York, and that asking her to get rid of it would be cruel. She could've just stored it somewhere safe so that nothing would happen to it, but she insisted on taking it with her all the time. 'For luck,' she'd said. He scoffed, if it was really that lucky, York wouldn't have died. He knew better than to tell her that, though.

Presently, the duo was pinned down by some angry pirates. They were low on ammo and their makeshift shelter wouldn't protect them for too much longer. Retreat was impossible; they'd be shot the second they tried to flee. Church was running the odds over and over again, but it seemed that she was going to die here unless some kind of crazy miracle happened.

Carolina was clutching that lighter like a lifeline through it all. Did she honestly think that would do anything for her?

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck close to where the pirates had been shooting from. The loud clap of thunder immediately after disoriented them long enough for Carolina to make a break for it. Taking out two of the enemy before ducking behind some safer cover, she breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, York," she muttered to herself.

Church didn't dignify that with a response. That storm had been coming close for a while now. It was about time some lightning struck somewhere nearby. The fact that it struck so close to the enemy that they could make their move was just a coincidence. The odds had been tiny, but there was no way that lighter had protected them.

But she looked so happy that for once, he kept his mouth shut.


	23. Froideur

A/N: This is kind of funny; I was actually thinking of the idea _before_ I saw what the word was today, and it just happened to fit perfectly!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 23_ _rd_ _, Froideur_

 _1\. (French) An attitude of haughty aloofness; cold superiority._

* * *

It was no secret that Tucker _loathed_ Freelancers.

From his personal experiences, he had to agree with Church; they were selfish, greedy bastards with no concern for other people's lives who thought they were so much better than everyone else. Tex hadn't been _nearly_ as bad as Tucker had thought she would be, but she still had her moments; like when he said he'd pay her 10 bucks to tear off Grif's arm and she had gotten really excited.

Wyoming was _way_ worse.

That bastard was perfectly willing to kidnap his kid just to finish his job. He'd even managed to convince Tex to help him out at the end. So no, Tucker didn't feel bad when he'd stabbed him. From those two experiences alone, Tucker had gotten the idea that Freelancers could only be trusted if some kind of personal gain was involved.

Of course, the Meta also had to be a Freelancer.

That psycho's only concern was for AI, and he even backstabbed his own partner just to get at Church. Watching him go over the cliff had been really satisfying (well, except when he nearly pulled Grif over; Tucker would never admit it, but he had been worried for a moment). So when Caboose asked if they could keep said backstabbed partner, Tucker's first response had been 'fuck no'. But Caboose was persistent, and eventually Tucker had allowed it just to make Caboose shut up.

Carolina was even worse than Wyoming, if that were possible.

She only cared about finding the Director and killing him, and was perfectly willing to use them as cannon fodder to do it. She'd yelled at them, shot at them, and generally acted like she was so much better than them. She even turned Church against them, the rotten bitch. But they ended up going to help her anyway, because fuck it all, Church was still their teammate. She was quite a bit nicer to them after that (ha, serves you right, bitch!).

So he yelled at Wash, and he argued with him, and generally disagreed with him every chance he got. Church was gone, and Wash was trying to take his place. He probably got some sick kick out of ordering them around, so Tucker refused to give him any sort of satisfaction. Seriously, why did this jerk have to act like he knew what he was doing? It was obvious he didn't have a clue!

Things had gotten quite a bit better after the two had actually talked. Wash really wasn't half bad, for a _Freelancer._ Then the cave-in happened, and Tucker was thrown for a loop. There was absolutely nothing Wash could have gained from this; he should've done everything he could to save his own skin. Why didn't he?

He asked him about it later, after everything had calmed down. Wash had looked at him funny for a few seconds. "Was I really that bad?" he asked.

"No. I just thought that was par for the course for Freelancers," Tucker admitted.

Wash got this look like he'd swallowed a lemon. "Okay, first off, I'm an _ex_ -Freelancer. Second, that's a stereotype. Most of the guys weren't that bad. Things changed for the worst during Freelancer, and all of us were victims of it in one way or another," he explained.

"Really? Name one who 'wasn't that bad'," he scoffed.

"…York," Wash finally answered. "That guy was way too idealistic. Always trying to do the right thing, even if it meant losing what mattered to him the most." He sighed, looking somber for a few moments. "You know, every time I talk to you, I start thinking about him. You two were a lot alike. If you'd gotten the chance to meet him before… well, I think you two could've been great friends."

Tucker was quiet for a moment, because what are you supposed to say to that? Finally, he decided to just take the opportunity to get Wash to talk.

"Really? Tell me more."

"Well, he and Wyoming were always at each other's throats."

"Shit, really?! I already like him!"


	24. Intrapreneur

A/N: I think this one is the hardest one yet…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 24_ _th_ _, Intrapraneur_

 _1\. An employee of a large corporation who is given freedom and financial support to create new products, services, systems, etc., and does not have to follow the corporation's usual routines or protocols._

* * *

This was beyond what he could have imagined.

"How did this happen?" he asked, partially out of curiosity and partially out of shock. Alpha shuffled nervously in response, standing protectively in front of Beta, who seemed to content herself with watching him.

"I don't know," Alpha answered. "I just couldn't stop thinking about her, and there she was."

Dr. Church crossed his arms in slight amusement. "And how long did you honestly expect you could hide her from me?" he pressed.

"Well, I could've kept it up if _someone_ didn't decide to sneak off and get caught spying on Carolina," Alpha retorted, shooting a glare at Beta.

"Oh, shut up, asshole," she said. "You're the one who can't lie for shit."

"Oh, here we go. Turning this back on me, huh? How can I cover for you when I don't know where you are?! Seriously, bitch, you need to talk to me about these things!"

"What's the point in talking when you're so fucking busy listening to the sound of your own voice?! If you'd stopped _coddling_ me, you would've noticed these things without me having to say anything! Sometimes, a girl just needs her space!"

"Not when it puts her at risk! I'm just trying to keep you safe!"

"Safe from what, idiot?!"

He laughed; a bitter, broken sound. This was just like when _she_ was still alive. His overprotective nature combined with her restless free spirit would often lead to stupid little arguments like this. But in the end, they always ended up reconciling by the end. Alpha quickly turned back to face him.

"Don't even think about it," he growled. "I know you; I know what you're going to try. She's _mine,_ not yours." Beta wanted to protest that she wasn't _his_ either, but wisely kept her mouth shut; she'd picked up on the tension between them. But the gears in his mind were already spinning. He'd been annoyed when he'd only been allowed one AI for his work, but he'd thought that he'd just have to make do. But now, this had happened. If a strong emotional response could create one other AI already… And he had gone over a few theories on fragmentation…

Yes, this could work. He'd be working outside protocol, but he could make it work.


	25. Sympatico

A/N: This one was surprisingly hard; 90% of the characters are assholes. Lovable assholes, but still assholes.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 25_ _th_ _, Sympatico_

 _1\. Congenial or like-minded; likable._

* * *

It really was no wonder Caboose and Donut got along so well.

Donut was the single most likable guy in all of Blood Gulch. If you could get even Church to admit that he liked you, you had to be doing something right. Sure, he sometimes rubbed people the wrong way with his (possibly) unintentional double entendres, but he always meant well. And then there was Caboose, who, while he was considered annoying by most of his cohorts, AI just seemed to adore for some weird reason. The kid genuinely just wanted to help people, so it was hard to really hate him (unless your name was Tucker).

So, of course, these two together were the perfect combination. Donut was too nice to get annoyed at Caboose's stupidity, and Caboose was too stupid to be annoyed by the sex talk. Occasionally, they'd take a break from the whole Red vs Blue thing and just meet up for a picnic or something casual like that. It didn't matter that Caboose still had trouble getting Donut's name right, or that Donut might've meant that he wanted to shove something into a different hole than what most people were thinking; they always got along amazingly well.

Even Tucker had to admit that seeing them together was actually kind of cute. He'd never admit it out loud, but he did think so. It was just so surprising to see that in a whole canyon full of assholes, two little bright spots still existed.

…And now he was getting all sentimental and shit. Well, back to the rock.


	26. Fulminate

A/N: Well, this was fun to write!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 26_ _th_ _, Fulminate_

 _1\. To issue denunciations or the like (usually followed by against)._

 _2\. To explode with a loud noise; detonate._

 _3\. To cause to explode._

* * *

It was increasingly obvious that Wash had some serious anger issues.

He tried to keep them under control by bottling them up, but that just made things worse. When he did finally lose his temper, it would be in a massive explosion of rage that had a tendency to seriously hurt whoever was the unfortunate victim of his anger, from a broken nose to the near loss of an eye. He hated it, and he hated himself for not being better at dealing with it and not being willing to admit that it was a problem.

Spending time with the Reds and Blues was actually therapeutic in that regard.

They were just so aggravating at the best of times that he was finding it impossible to bottle up the anger. It would instead explode in short bursts, not serious enough for someone to get hurt, but enough to get his point across that he wasn't happy with them. And since these guys were already a bunch of assholes and had gotten used to Church, a little yelling didn't really bother them all that much.

"For the love of God, Tucker, stop sleeping naked!"

"Grif, get to your laps or I swear I'll feed every single Oreo in your stash to Caboose!"

"Sarge, how many times do I have to tell you to stay away from the tank?!"

"Donut… No. Just no."

It was like comparing a flashbang to a frag grenade. It was weird how it worked, but this was his favorite set of idiots; he'd long since learned to stop questioning how they managed to make things work. It was… unconventional was a mild way of putting it. But if it kept that burning anger from hurting any of his friends, he'd gladly take it.


	27. Shivoo

A/N: Oh, this is gonna be fun…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 27_ _th_ _, Shivoo_

 _1\. (Australian) A boisterous party or celebration._

* * *

"Never have I ever gotten pregnant."

"You suck, Grif," Tucker complained as he took his shot. Kaikaina gave her brother two middle fingers as she also downed one.

Things were only just starting to settle down on Chorus after Hargrove's arrest. There were still parties going on all across the planet as the survivors of the deadly civil war and attempted genocide that came after that just enjoyed being alive. Even the Reds and Blues, though they were mourning their loss in their own way, managed to find some time to join in the partying. Currently, they were playing a few rounds of 'Never Have I Ever', and had even managed to rope the Freelancers into playing with them. Carolina needed something else to think about other than _him_ , and Wash just figured it would be easier to go along with the insanity.

"Okay," Simmons mused. "Never have I ever… eaten a whole bag of Oreos in one sitting."

"Okay, I see where this is going," Grif moaned, downing his shot.

"Never have I ever given someone a lap dance!" Donut suggested. Once again, Kaikaina downed a shot. Surprisingly, so did Tucker.

"Hey, there was a lot of beer involved," he said with a shrug. "Okay, my turn. Never have I ever gotten brain damage."

"Does alcohol-induced stupidity count?" Simmons asked.

"Fuck, no. It doesn't work if that's on the table!" Caboose downed a shot, as did Wash and Carolina.

"Okay, um… Never have I ever… uh… gotten the pussy!" Caboose finally decided.

"Do you even know what that means?" Tucker asked as he proudly took a shot.

"No," Caboose admitted. Tucker smirked as he noticed Kaikaina also take a shot, then nearly choked on his drink in surprise when Wash took one too.

"What the fuck?! You actually got some action?!"

Carolina snorted; the closest thing they'd gotten to a smile since it happened. "Wash, he meant girls, not cats," she pointed out.

"You don't know that," he remarked dryly.

Tucker gave him a look of absolute pity. "Dude, you're going to end up old and alone with a house full of cats," he said.

"Suits me; cats are more tolerable than people, anyway. Well, most people," Wash teased.

And with a few more laughs along the way, the game continued.


	28. Chanticleer

A/N: I thought this was going to be hard at first; then I remembered that Wash always crows at dawn.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 28_ _th_ _, Chanticleer_

 _1\. (Now Literary) A rooster; used as a proper name in medieval fables. Derived from the French 'chantecler', which means 'sing clear'._

* * *

"GET UP, PRIVATE TUCKER!"

Tucker groaned and rolled over in bed. Was the sun even up yet? It seemed like Wash always got up at the ass-crack of dawn, which he probably was considering his sleeping habits. He wouldn't have had a problem with it (really, what Wash got up to in his private time was none of his business), except that Wash had to go and make sure everyone else was up at the same time as him. People were not meant to be awake at this time of day!

"Are you even listening to me?! Wait, stupid question; of course you're not!"

"Fuck off, Wash. I'm too tired to argue," Tucker yawned.

"You wouldn't be if you weren't up all night masturbating again!" Wash retorted.

"Hey, a man has needs! And those needs are supposed to be private, so quit spying on me!"

Wash was practically incoherent with rage for a moment. "Private?! I can hear you through the walls! If you wanted it to be private, go do it somewhere else!"

Tucker pulled his sheets up over his face and attempted to ignore the angry Freelancer. He squawked like a rooster when he was pissed off… Usually, it was funny, but not in the early hours of the morning. Wash stormed over and yanked off Tucker's sheets, shutting his eyes so that he didn't get another eyeful of him.

"And how many times have I told you to stop sleeping naked?!"

"About as many times as I've told you 'fuck no'!" Tucker made a grab for the sheets, but even with his eyes closed, Wash could pick up on Tucker's fumbling. He quickly turned and headed for Caboose's part of the base, keeping Tucker's sheets out of reach.

"Breakfast is at 0500. If you're late, you don't get any." And with that, he left, leaving Tucker annoyed and groaning. One more reason he missed having Church in charge…


	29. Parergon

A/N: So, my laptop just crashed on me. The screen won't turn on anymore. It was working fine this morning, but now it's not. Luckily, I still have my desktop to fall back on, but that means I had to rewrite this chapter from scratch. So annoying…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 29_ _th_ _, Parergon_

 _1\. Something that is an accessory to a main work or subject; embellishment._

 _2\. Work undertaken in addition to one's principal work._

* * *

Why was he doing this again?

Agent Florida's mission was to safeguard the Alpha AI; no more, no less. All of the other idiots in this canyon were just accessories to keep up the illusion to keep him unaware of what was really going on. Interacting with them any more than necessary was pointless. So why was he leaving Church unattended in favor of Private Tucker? They weren't even talking about anything important; just Tucker talking about his life back home (which he really didn't care about) and asking him about his life (which he lied about).

Private Tucker was just a spare body in case something happened to the one Church was using. He was lazy, inattentive, and much preferred his 'extracurricular activities' to anything that actually mattered in the long run. That's why Flowers picked him for the mission; because he was the worst soldier candidate he could find. So why was he wasting time talking to him? He tried to justify it as making it look like he wasn't playing favorites, but Tucker had already called 'bullshit' on that. He did have to admit, the boy was smarter than he let on.

There was the possibility he was making sure that Tucker wasn't a spy trying to sabotage his mission, but he'd already thrown that out the window. He'd triple-checked his files for any inconsistencies and had found none. Even if there was something being hidden from him, Florida was an expert in lie detection. Tucker was completely honest with everything he did and said, even if it was often inappropriate.

He just couldn't comprehend it, but for some reason, he enjoyed talking to him. Maybe, just maybe, in all the time the three of them were together in the canyon, he'd grown attached. He scoffed to himself; since when did Agent Florida have an honest-to-goodness heart? He played the role to complete the mission, but he felt nothing.

…Right?


	30. Equivoque

A/N: Hm… Should I go serious or silly? …I deeply apologize in advance for this one…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 30_ _th_ _, Equivoque_

 _1\. An equivocal term; an ambiguous expression._

 _2\. A play on words; pun._

 _3\. Double meaning; ambiguity._

* * *

This was just like him, wasn't it?

Carolina sighed; today had been a really rough day. After yelling at Wyoming and Maine for the first half-hour after the incident, she'd gone straight to Recovery, where York was just waking up. The bandages marring the left side of his face made her cringe, but he flashed a warm smile at her when he noticed.

"Believe me, it's not nearly as bad as it looks," he told her.

"York, you could've lost an eye because those idiots got careless! How can you just laugh it off?!" she snapped.

"Hey, it could've been worse. I could've lost both eyes, or I could've died. Neither happened, so I'm inclined to count my blessings," he said with a shrug. She was still despondent, so he reached over to put his arm around her shoulders. "Hey, come on. There's no way you could've gotten to me in time. Don't beat yourself up over something you couldn't control."

"I'm the leader! It's my job to keep you all safe! How can I do that if incidents like this keep happening?!"

York was quiet for a moment before he said something so stupid it was probably brilliant. "Okay, 'eye' see what you mean."

Carolina froze, then glared at his cheeky smirk. "What."

"Yeah, I get why you're mad. That pun couldn't be any 'cornea'."

"Oh my God, York, why?!"

"'Iris'-pect that you're worried, but you need to de-stress. I'll get Wyoming back for this; non-lethally, of course. You know, 'eye for an eye'?"

"Stop it!"

"Hey, you're smiling!" York pointed out.

"I am and I hate it!" Carolina couldn't help laughing. How was it that he was always able to cheer her up like this? Even in a situation like this, where he might lose his ability to work effectively in his field of expertise, he still prioritized her happiness over his.

"There we go! Seeing you smile always makes me feel better! Relax, I'll be fine! I just need a little rest; then I'll be right back with you on missions, 'bright-eyed and bushy-tailed'!" York's grin got even wider as she broke into another fit of laughter. "Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week! Well, hopefully not. Nice place, but I wouldn't want to live here, you know?"


	31. Kanone

A/N: Sorry if I get anything wrong here, but I don't know much about skiing.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _January 31_ _st_ _, Kanone_

 _1\. A person who is an expert skier._

* * *

If there was one sport North loved more than anything, it was skiing.

It didn't matter if it was alpine or cross-country, he just enjoyed getting out his skis on a snowy day. South was far more interested in snowboarding herself, but he was satisfied with taking it slow every once in a while. Plus, it was embarrassing when he couldn't keep his balance on a board.

Sometimes, he needed the thrill of going downhill as fast as he could go, feeling his heart racing in excitement the whole time. But at other times, he just liked to slow down and check out the lovely winter scenery as he crossed over the cold snow. South didn't get the appeal; then again, she was an 'all action, all the time' kind of person. She never really learned how to take it slow and just enjoy things.

Theta, being the curious little guy he was, had asked him about it once. But there was just no way to put those feelings into terms that he could understand. Heck, North barely understood it himself. So he decided that the next time he got leave, he'd visit someplace nice and snowy and just go skiing. Explaining it might be impossible, but having Theta experience it would be fun for the both of them.


	32. Ataraxia

A/N: I actually was wondering what this word meant ever since I first saw it, but I was too lazy to look it up.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 1_ _st_ _, Ataraxia_

 _1\. A state of freedom from emotional disturbance and anxiety; tranquility._

* * *

Days like this were so rare.

If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Wash's life had gotten so high stress lately that he was surprised he hadn't given himself an aneurysm yet. Having Carolina around to help out worked wonders, but he had still been working himself into the ground trying to keep as many people as he could alive.

And then Carolina had cornered him in the hall with Dr. Grey and demanded that he take the day off because she could see the bags under his eyes through his visor. That just made things worse. He _needed_ to have something to do or he'd go stir-crazy! Besides, Caboose hadn't broken anything yet today, so it was bound to happen at some point. And to top it all off, Donut had found Wash pacing in the halls and had dragged him to his room for some 'TLC'.

Fortunately, Donut was just talking about a back massage, much to the ex-Freelancer's relief. And he was surprisingly good with his hands (not that kind of good, Tucker, shut up). All of the stress of the past few weeks was just melting away. "I haven't seen shoulders this tense in years! How did you get so wound up?" Donut asked, concerned.

"Less talky, more rubby," Wash moaned.

Donut shrugged and went back to smoothing out the knots. Maybe he could tell Carolina about how hard Wash was right now; it might convince her to give him a few more days off to relax. Wash, meanwhile, was more focused on the quiet. He'd forgotten how it felt to not have to worry about anything and just relax. He'd have to come back for another round some time. Preferably without Tucker finding out and getting the wrong idea…


	33. Umbra

A/N: I decided to focus on a double meaning for this one.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 2_ _nd_ _, Umbra_

 _1\. Shade; shadow._

 _2\. The invariable or characteristic accompaniment or companion of a person or thing._

* * *

Wash absolutely _loathed_ the Meta.

It wasn't just because it tried to kill him, though that was a big factor. It was mostly what it was that bothered him. This thing used to be Maine, and just thinking about that made him sick. Whatever Sigma did to him in there, it messed him up. But that wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was that it wouldn't stop following him. Normally, this was a good thing; the Meta was dangerous, so Wash liked to be able to keep an eye on it. But sometimes his thoughts got a little too dark and he needed a break from people for a moment. He could never get that anymore with the Meta constantly following him. It certainly didn't help his paranoia; it was always in the perfect position to stab him in the back.

Finally, Wash got fed up. "Stop following me!" he snapped. "I just need some space for a few minutes, is that so god damned hard to understand?!"

The Meta just tilted its head slightly, like it didn't know why Wash was so angry. Without waiting for any acknowledgement, Wash stormed off, leaving the beast behind. When he was sure that he was finally alone, he curled up on the ground and took a few deep, shuddering breaths, trying not to cry.

The Meta was just a reminder of what he'd lost. But sometimes, it was even crueler than that. There were moments where it was just like the old days, him and Maine on a mission together, the two arguing and teasing each other in their own way. Maine was never much of a talker even before getting shot, but Wash somehow always knew what he meant.

Sometimes he and the Meta would talk in the same way. For a moment, Wash would forget the extent of the damage done. But he'd be reminded eventually. The Meta would sometimes stop in the middle of a conversation and just stare at him, like it had forgotten what it was supposed to say next. It was just a shadow mimicking Maine; his friend was long gone.

Just an empty echo of what once was.


	34. Cloudland

A/N: I think this is why people say you've got your head in the clouds when you're daydreaming…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 3_ _rd_ _, Cloudland_

 _1\. The sky._

 _2\. A region of unreality, imagination, etc.; dreamland._

* * *

Caboose was really lucky.

He was so innocent even after everything that he'd been through. Some of that was probably due to the brain damage he'd sustained from three AI trying to kill each other in his head, but he'd been pretty optimistic even before that. But most importantly, he was the only member of Blue Team to not have the nightmares.

Church would wake up hyperventilating and curl up into a ball, haunted by tortures that he had long forgotten but never healed from. Wash was a screaming wreck on the worst nights, a danger to himself and everyone around him. Sister would sometimes wake up crying, having relived the moment she and her brother were abandoned. Even Flowers sometimes woke with a start, tense and ready to pounce on something only he could see.

Tucker didn't start having them until Chorus, when his decisions kept getting people hurt or killed. That was when he realized that Caboose was really lucky. Because when Caboose fell asleep, he never dreamed of long dead teammates or accusations of guilt. He had the kind of simple dreams that you'd expect of a child. Even after everything he'd gone through, even after losing his best friend multiple times (many of them at his own hand) he still wasn't haunted. He fought in a fucking civil war where so many people he knew got killed (heck, Caboose himself had nearly gotten killed a few times) and he still wasn't waking up in the middle of the night screaming.

Nope, Caboose's dreams were as peaceful as they'd always been, and Tucker couldn't help but envy that.


	35. Feinschmecker

A/N: This one was a bit of a toughie… I ended up deciding to go with a contrast.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 4_ _th_ _, Feinschmecker_

 _1\. (German) Gourmet._

* * *

Grif could never be considered a picky eater.

That was the thought currently running through Simmons' mind as he got a good look at what was going on. Grif was blindfolded and Tucker and Donut were giggling about something. "Okay, open up!" Donut said.

Grif took a big bite out of what Donut handed him without making any attempt to find out what it was. "Let's see… I'm guessing beef."

"Bingo! But that was just the first taste. Tucker, the next item, please!"

"Okay, how about this one?" Tucker had something on a spoon and held it in front of Grif. He nearly swallowed the spoon trying to eat what it was. His lips puckered almost instantly.

"That's a lemon; can't miss that taste."

"Got it again, but it's only going to get harder from here, man," Tucker answered.

"What are you guys doing?" Simmons finally asked.

"Oh, hey, Simmons! We're doing a blindfolded eating challenge. Are you going to watch?" Donut asked.

"I don't even know what that is," he admitted.

"Seriously? It's exactly what it says. I'm blindfolded, and these guys give me stuff to eat. Then I've got to guess what it is. I get dinner, and these guys get a show. Everyone wins," Grif explained with a slight shrug.

"Ugh. How can you even do that? I'd be worried that they'd give me something gross just to screw with me," Simmons muttered, shuddering.

"They probably will. But I've got an iron stomach anyway. Now enough chit-chat; let's get back to the food!"

"Okay, I've got the next one all ready to go!"

Donut passed Grif the next item, which he bit into eagerly. "Hmm… kinda salty," he muttered thoughtfully. He started gagging suddenly. "Ugh, sour! Ugh, this aftertaste is horrible! You guys totally fed me an anchovy, didn't you?!"

"Even after all that gagging, he still got it!" Tucker was obviously shocked.

"Don't underestimate my knowledge of food!"


	36. Juggernaut

A/N: Did you honestly expect me to not talk about Maine when this word came up?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 5_ _th_ _, Juggernaut_

 _1\. Any large, overpowering, destructive force or object, as war, a giant battleship, or a powerful football team._

 _2\. Anything requiring blind devotion or cruel sacrifice._

* * *

If only one word could be used to describe Maine, it would be 'tank'.

There were other words, such as 'powerful', 'unrelenting', and 'devastating', but they didn't fully capture the extent of Maine's capabilities. He could put people through walls with little effort, shake off injuries that would kill a normal man, and do all this without ever letting on that he was in any pain.

South had called him a 'massive meat shield' once. He never really minded it that much.

But most importantly, a tank never questioned its orders.

Maine knew some of the things he was ordered to do in Freelancer were… questionable. He didn't care. His actions would ultimately serve the greater good in the end. If that meant he had to do a few things that so-called 'normal' people would consider unpleasant, that was fine by him.

That didn't mean he wasn't sorry about York's eye, but that was an accident.

So he would charge through hordes of enemies to keep them off his teammates' backs, he'd take every single bullet he could for them, and do it all without a single complaint (well, except when joking with Wash off duty, but he never meant it). As long as they could keep fighting and finish their mission, he'd keep doing it. Even if it cost him his voice.

And in the end, it cost him everything.


	37. Paralogize

A/N: Wow, Delta's hard to write. Don't get me wrong, I like him, but I find it very hard to write him.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 6_ _th_ _, Paralogize_

 _1\. To draw conclusions that do not follow logically from a given set of assumptions._

* * *

Delta didn't get humans.

They were always so irrational, letting their emotions interfere with their more logical thoughts. Case in point, York's restless pacing and worrying really did not need to be occurring, but it was. "Agent York, I find it hard to believe that Agent Carolina would lie to you on a matter such as this," he said patiently.

"No, she would. If it was to spare my feelings, she definitely would," he muttered back, not even losing a step in his pacing. "The question is what would she be hiding?"

"You are over-thinking the matter. She only said that she would be returning from her mission slightly later than anticipated. Any number of delays could have caused this."

"That's exactly the problem!" York groaned. "What if she got lost? What if she got hurt? What if she got pinned down by enemy soldiers? She's too stubborn to call for back-up if she thinks she can handle it!"

Delta didn't bother trying to explain to York that all of these outcomes had a very miniscule chance of occurring; he was too wrapped up in his own worry to notice. He really had difficulty comprehending the point of emotions in situations like this; they only got in the way.

Eventually, a text arrived from Carolina letting York know that she was back. He bolted to the Pelican bay to meet up with her, all the while ignoring Delta's little 'I told you so's. She looked fine, but he really couldn't be too sure. "You're okay! Wait, are you? Did you get shot?! Fall off a cliff?! Explode?!"

"York, calm down! Take a breath before you pass out. I'm fine; I just needed to make a quick stop on my way back," she explained. Delta felt a little smug knowing he'd been right, which York picked up on and subsequently ignored. She handed York a small bottle he hadn't noticed she'd been carrying, which confused him a little.

"It's some eye drops I picked up at a pharmacy. Your eye still hurts at night, right? These should help you feel a little better. Sorry I didn't say anything, but I wanted to surprise you. But, really, York, you didn't need to get so panicked. If I was in trouble, you'd be the first person I'd call."

York just sighed, relieved that she was okay, and ignoring Delta telling him that he really shouldn't have worried in the first place. It just wasn't logical.

 _Just part of what makes us human, D._


	38. Bonzer

A/N: What's with all these slang terms?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 7_ _th_ _, Bonzer_

 _1\. (Australian) Remarkable; wonderful._

* * *

Epsilon didn't sleep; he didn't really need to.

During the long hours of night when everyone took the time to get some rest, he'd have to find something to occupy himself with. Usually it would be keeping an eye on the motion trackers to make sure no one tried to sneak up on Carolina while she got some precious sleep, but now that they were back with the others, they had a night watch for that. On nights like this, when there was nothing for him to do but think, his thoughts would take interesting turns.

On this particular night, he was observing everyone as they got some much needed sleep. They'd been running for a while now, trying to keep those pirates from catching them, and the majority of them were exhausted and stressed. Carolina was on first watch, and usually he'd chat with her if she was still awake, but she was occupied with that Dr. Grey woman wanting to check on her leg again, so instead he went to keep an eye on the guys.

Caboose was sprawled out on the ground like a big stupid puppy, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Tucker and Wash were sleeping right through it; they'd had plenty of time to get used to the noise. Tucker was naked as usual, half-curled on his side, while Wash was obviously on one of his good nights since he was as still as a corpse. Church was relieved at that, at least; if Wash had another one of his nightmares, there'd be no way for them to deal with it without getting violent.

Over with the Reds, Simmons was snoring softly while curled up against Grif, who had his arm slightly bent around his partner's shoulder. Church fought the urge to laugh. Tucker was right; these two were practically a couple already. Donut was talking in his sleep, but he did not want to know what he was saying. Sarge was leaning against a rock, in a position where he could quickly grab his shotgun if they were attacked. Lopez had shut down for the night, standing up in his usual spot next to Sarge.

Despite the danger everyone was in, despite the fact that they could be attacked at any moment, Church couldn't help but feel happy. It was great to see everyone again, and from what he'd heard, they'd been separated for a long time before he and Carolina had shown up. Yet it was as if no time had passed at all; everyone settled into the positions where they felt the most comfortable. Maybe he should too.

Carolina would be busy for a while yet, so while he still had nothing to do he jumped over to Caboose, just wanting to be close to his team for a bit. He'd never admit it to anyone, (hell, he had a hard time admitting it to _himself_ ) but these idiots were the best thing to ever happen to him. They were amazing; his very first taste of real happiness.

And he'd be damned if he let anyone take that away from him.


	39. Troglodyte

A/N: This one was surprisingly hard.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 8_ _th_ _, Troglodyte_

 _1\. A person of degraded, primitive, or brutal character._

 _2\. A prehistoric cave dweller._

 _3\. A person living in seclusion._

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Maine was far from stupid.

Sure, his fighting style mostly revolved around the maneuver most commonly known as 'Suicide Death Charge'. That was only because his body was able to handle that kind of tactic, and he tended to get reckless when he was angry. Sure, he didn't talk much. That was just because he found most conversation outside of missions pointless. None of that meant he was stupid.

York had just discovered that the hard way.

"Okay, I'm sorry! Could you just put me down?" Currently, Maine was dangling York by the ankle, glaring at him. Carolina would glance over at the two on occasion, but mostly just stuck to her reading, unconcerned with York's dilemma. South and Wyoming were betting on which wall Maine would put York through next. Wash, meanwhile, was trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

"Did you really think he wouldn't figure out it was you, York?" he snickered.

"Uh… yes?" Wrong answer. Maine adjusted his grip and tossed York through the south wall, causing South to cheer and Wyoming to scowl.

"Idiot," Maine growled. Really, it wasn't that hard to figure out that York was the one who stole his pistol while he was asleep and replaced it with a water pistol. He could break the locks easily without getting caught (it was alarms he had trouble with, not locks), he had the easiest access to items that Niner could smuggle in (he would bribe her with embarrassing stories involving the others), and, most importantly, he was the only one dumb enough to even consider it.

And he was even dumber than Maine had thought if he honestly expected that he wouldn't get caught.


	40. Muckrake

A/N: This one had Connie written all over it.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 9_ _th_ _, Muckrake_

 _1\. To search for and expose real or alleged corruption, scandal, or the like, especially in politics._

* * *

Connie loved her job.

The danger was very real; if the Director caught her, she was screwed. He'd already proven to be willing to go to extremes in his work; torturing a traitor wasn't something she'd put past him. But it was still fun undermining his authority and hacking into his personal files to expose what he'd been doing.

She had access to just about everything, including everyone's psyche profiles. There was quite a bit of interesting information in there. Carolina was the Director's daughter? Made sense; it certainly explained her attitude towards being at the top. Wash used to wet the bed? That was going into her special blackmail folder. Nothing on Texas, which was really weird; she'd have to look more into that later on.

Then there was the file on the twins. She frowned as she looked it over; well, this explained a lot. Another one of the Director's dirty little experiments. Praise and reward one twin while shunning the other just to see what happens. The results were already noticeable; South had always been short-tempered, but she'd been getting much more aggressive lately, and had even blown a few missions because she tried to do things on her own to prove she was better than North. This was not going to end well for anyone.

She was also able to find the deployment orders for the Triplets. Seems everyone had been lied to about what happened to them too. He just dumped them on some backwater ice planet in the middle of nowhere and left them to die. Well, when she finally got enough information to make a break for it, Connie decided that she'd head there and see if they were okay. They were good guys; a little chaotic, but they were a breath of fresh air that she missed.

But first, she had to drag Dr. Leonard Church's name through the mud.


	41. Whiffler

A/N: I based this one on how my parents get when they have a heated discussion. Basically, South's mom (loud), North's dad (calm), and Wash's me (just kinda there). And yes, my dad does sound condescending when he's trying to make a point, at least in my opinion.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 10_ _th_ _, Whiffler_

 _1\. A person who frequently shifts opinions, attitudes, interests, etc._

 _2\. A person who is vacillating or evasive in an argument._

* * *

Wash had never hated his teammates more than he did now.

Everything was pretty normal as far as Freelancer went. Then North and South showed up in the middle of a 'heated discussion' (North refused to call them fights). These 'heated discussions' left everyone feeling awkward, so anyone still in the room when they showed up took off to do something else. But one unlucky sap would be left behind to referee the 'discussion' to make sure no one got hurt.

And because everyone else ditched him, he was the unlucky sap.

"Just because you're higher on the leaderboard, you think you're better than me!" South snapped, angry as usual.

"That's not what I said." Wash was at least impressed that North was able to keep a cool head in a situation like this.

"But you implied it!"

North had his hands up in a placating gesture. "South," he said slowly. "You're not listening to me."

"But-"

"You're not listening. I wasn't implying anything with what I said."

"Do you have any idea how fucking condescending you sound when you use that tone?!"

"That's not my intention."

"Oh, please! Hey, Wash, you agree with me, right?"

Oh great, now they were paying attention to him. "Um… I can't really pick a side if I don't know what you're talking about," he stalled.

"South, don't drag him into this. Wash has nothing to do with this," North pointed out.

"And here we go again, always bossing me around!" South rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Seriously, you're only older by five minutes!"

Wash tuned out the 'discussion' once again, trying to find an opportunity to slip away. He didn't want to get involved, he didn't want to pick sides, and he really didn't want South to hit him for not taking hers. He could only evade their questions for so long.

Oh, how he loathed his teammates for abandoning him to this cruel fate.


	42. Noblesse Oblige

A/N: Okay, forget everything I've said before: _this_ is the hardest one yet!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 11_ _th_ _, Noblesse Oblige_

 _1\. The moral obligation of those of high birth, powerful social position, etc., to act with honor, kindliness, generosity, etc._

* * *

The Director was someone to be loathed; that was for certain.

Wash used to respect him, a long time ago. Back then, he thought for sure he'd be locked up for a good few years for what he did. But the Director got him out of that, and got him into Freelancer. There were ups and downs, but he made the best of the chance he got. No matter what Connie said, no matter what kind of accidents kept happening, no matter how worried everyone else was getting, he never considered the idea of not trusting him.

Then Epsilon happened.

After that, Wash was unintentionally privy to all of his dirty little secrets. When he came out of his coma, the first thought that he could clearly recognize as one of his own was _keep your mouth shut_. After the crash, he was questioned over and over again, but he never let on that he knew anything. Of course, they probably still suspected something, but that was beyond his control.

He knew that hating him was natural after what happened. He used them as lab rats, didn't seem to care when his own daughter was killed, didn't even give her the time of day when she was alive, and that wasn't even getting into what was done to Alpha and Tex. But the worst part was that he _didn't_.

Of course he was angry about everything that happened. Of course he blamed the Director for his misery. But in spite of all that, he couldn't truly hate him. He blamed Epsilon for that one.

See, Epsilon didn't just have Alpha's memories. There were some fragments and pieces that he could identify as belonging to the Director. From those fragments, he could see that things hadn't always been this way. He'd used to be a good person, who truly loved and cared for his family, and wanted to do what he could to help humanity in the war while his wife was away on the front lines.

But he'd lost that kind heart when he lost Allison. And Wash could only pity what he had become.


	43. Calliopean

A/N: For this one, I decided to expand on something I'd previously written about.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 12_ _th_ _, Calliopean_

 _1\. Piercingly loud; resembling a calliope (steam organ) in sound: a calliopean voice._

* * *

Tucker didn't expect to be woken up by screaming.

He nearly fell out of bed in shock, quickly looking around to make sure they weren't being attacked. All seemed quiet except for the screaming, so Tucker groaned. If this was just someone having a nightmare, he was going to punch that someone. Even guys like him needed their beauty rest.

Caboose was already awake, shuffling nervously. "It's Agent Washingtub," he muttered. "He has really bad nightmares sometimes. Maybe that's why he's so cranky and yelly all the time." Tucker groaned, throwing on some shorts and heading to the team leader's quarters. It was bad enough dealing with Church's fits. Just from the sound, this was going to be way worse.

He wasn't happy to be proven right. Wash was thrashing in his sleep, screaming loud enough to wake the dead. Tucker rolled his eyes; couldn't any Blue team leader just get a full night's sleep? He didn't really care, but when they were keeping him up at night, then it was annoying. Tired and cranky, he did the first thing that came to mind; what he always did when Church had his nightmares.

"Hey, wake up," he grumbled as he grabbed and shook Wash's shoulder.

Tucker had enough time to hear Caboose say "Don't do that!" before Wash lashed out and punched him in the jaw. Surprised and in pain, he stumbled back, letting Wash hit him again, this time in the left eye. Another blow to the side of his head sent him down to the ground. By the time Tucker got his bearings, Wash was on top of him holding a knife to his throat. Through it all, he still hadn't woken up.

Caboose stepped in at this point, getting Wash in a hold and trying to pull him off without Tucker getting stabbed or sliced. Wash was deceptively strong, however, and was managing to hold his own, though Tucker suspected that was because Caboose was trying not to hurt him by accident. After a few minutes of this, the struggling died down, and Caboose relaxed his grip just enough to be comfortable. Slowly, Wash started to come around.

"Huh?" he mumbled, blearily looking around. "What happened?"

"You had another nightmare," Caboose said gently. "You told me to stop you if you grabbed the knife, so I did."

"Thanks," Wash sighed, looking more exhausted than ever. "You can let go now; I'm fine."

"Okay!" Caboose let go, giving the ex-Freelancer a chance to deal with the soreness in his limbs. "Yeah, Tucker was being stupid and I might have not told him to not touch you when you're having a nightmare."

"Now you tell me," Tucker groaned from the floor, still too tired to get up. Wash finally noticed him and his eyes widened with shock.

"Did… did I do that? Not again…"

"Hey, you heard him. Caboose was the one who forgot to tell me. It's not your fault," Tucker grumbled, gingerly checking over his wounded face. "Ow. I'm getting some ice from the kitchen. You want a glass of warm milk or something?"

Wash sighed, looking like the whole world was on his shoulders. "It couldn't hurt," he finally decided.


	44. Pedagogy

A/N: This one I kind of have personal experience with.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 13_ _th_ _, Pedagogy_

 _1\. The function or work of a teacher; teaching._

 _2\. The art or science of teaching; education; instructional methods._

* * *

Teaching the Reds and Blues was like herding cats.

Actually, seeing as he had done both, Wash could confidently say that herding cats was easier. With Tucker's apathy, Caboose's stupidity, Grif's laziness, and Sarge's insanity, it was hard getting anyone to actually listen to what he had to say. Well, at least Simmons listened, so that was a plus.

But this was still a bad situation. They were stranded with limited supplies, and they needed to be able to make do. The only problem was that these guys didn't know the first thing about survival. They'd always had a base to call home and a steady supply of ammo and food (though they never got a resupply of water to Blood Gulch apparently; that explained a lot). As the only one with any sort of survival training (or, at least, the only one who knew what to do with it), Wash took it upon himself to try and make sure that if something happened to him, they could make it on their own.

It wasn't going well. Caboose tried to understand, but everything went in one ear and out the other no matter how simply he put it. It was impossible to teach someone who didn't want to learn, so Tucker and Grif were out of the equation. Sarge spent far more time rambling on about his numerous experiences surviving in harsh, unforgiving conditions (which Wash doubted actually happened). Simmons was listening, but he'd also listen to Sarge, and that wasn't a good combination.

They say 'those who can, do, and those who can't, teach'. He could handle this situation just fine if he was on his own. But he wasn't; he had two whole squads of idiots who would probably die in a matter of days if he wasn't there to keep them in line. Is it even possible for someone who 'can' to 'teach'?

Wash sighed to himself, wishing not for the first time that Carolina and Church were here.


	45. Spoony

A/N: I'm so sorry, but I had to make a 'spoony bard' joke somewhere!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 14_ _th_ _, Spoony_

 _1\. (Informal) Foolishly or sentimentally amorous._

 _2\. (Informal) Foolish; silly._

* * *

Oh, how Wash _hated_ Valentine's Day.

It was mostly just a stupid excuse for couples to buy things for each other, and for single people to have their status annoyingly pointed out constantly. Honestly, he was hoping that he could just forget the day existed. York, however, made that impossible.

He spent the entire day giving Carolina sweet gifts. Some candies here and there, a nice card, even a full box of chocolates (which were quickly hidden so she could enjoy them later when no one was watching). And according to the logs, he was sending her an 'I love you' text every hour on the hour. It was so disgustingly sweet.

The worst part was that Carolina actually seemed to enjoy the attention. Whenever she got one of her gifts, she'd get this little smile that she thought people didn't notice but they totally did. She didn't even yell at him or call him an idiot; she'd just sigh and shake her head a little. Less of a 'what an idiot', and more of a 'he's my adorable idiot'.

York even went the extra mile and did a full-on serenade. How he even got the guitar, Wash would never figure out. Maybe he'd always had it and was saving it for special occasions. But Carolina didn't even seem embarrassed. She did blush, but it was more out of happiness than shame.

Wash just rolled his eyes and covered his ears. Maybe York would eventually shut up and let everyone get some sleep.


	46. Sine Die

A/N: So my computers all hate me today.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 15_ _th_ _, Sine Die_

 _1\. Without fixing a day for future action or meeting._

* * *

Another argument; these were happening way too often lately.

"For the last time, you're being paranoid," Wash complained. CT crossed her arms in frustration and glared at him.

"Am I, Wash? Do you really think it's just a coincidence that everything's started to go to hell after Texas showed up? The Director favors her, that's obvious. But I can't figure out why."

"Just because she's anti-social doesn't mean she's the cause of our problems. Maine doesn't really talk to anyone outside of you or me; does that make him suspicious?" he countered.

"I don't think she's suspicious; I think the circumstances surrounding her are suspicious. The Director was trying to do something with bringing her in here. Things were bad enough already, and now they're only getting worse. Carolina's getting more and more aggressive trying to keep up with her. South's pissed off that there's another person ahead of her and she's taking it out on everyone. Come on, Wash, Wyoming and York have been at each others throats for as long as we've known them, but Wyoming would never have tried to get York killed before this! Hell, Maine would never try to get York killed either!" she snapped.

"That was an accident. It was their own fault for bringing live rounds into the mix."

"And who do you think gave them the rounds? Who brought Texas in to get them angry enough to try that?"

"You don't have any proof of that!"

"If you'd just _listen-_ "

"Look, I don't have time for this!" he snapped. "In case you forgot, we've got a mission coming up. I have to get ready; you should, too. We'll talk later when you've calmed down."

CT just glared at him for a moment before storming off in a huff. Wash got back to work getting ready for their upcoming mission. With any luck, she'd be feeling better after, and they could try and talk it out.

But, of course, that never happened.


	47. Procrustean

A/N: This one was surprisingly tricky…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 16_ _th_ _, Procrustean_

 _1\. Tending to produce conformity by violent or arbitrary means._

* * *

She doesn't remember anything.

Well, that's not entirely correct. She remembers pain, but that's all. Her body feels heavy and clunky and _wrong,_ but she can't figure out why. There's a vague recollection of someone screaming (not her, this voice sounds different _I told you not to touch her!_ ), but it's gone as soon as she thinks of it.

"Agent Texas?"

Instinctively, she knows that someone's talking to her. At the same time, it feels _wrong_. That's not her name… is it? She can't remember. "Yes?" she answered, ignoring the wrongness.

"It's good to see you're feeling better. How much do you remember about what happened?" She knows this man. Counselor Aiden Price, works for Project Freelancer, has the unenviable job of getting into the minds of some of the best soldiers ever. How did she know that?

"Not much," she admitted. "Just… pain."

"That's not surprising; you were quite severely injured. You may have lost some of your memories." Ah, that explains it. But how did she get so badly hurt? She screwed up somewhere, that's for sure. Frustrated, all she could think about was how she'd somehow failed _again_.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"Only three days this time. You've been in and out of consciousness for quite some time now. I know this question has an… obvious answer, but I have to ask if you feel ready to return to active duty."

"Of course. Just point me at the objective and I'll get it done. No mistakes." _This time._

"Very well. The Director has been quite eager to see you back in action. He already has a mission ready for you." He seemed satisfied with her answers, which only made her skin crawl. But she still couldn't figure out why.

As she turned and left, ready to get to work, she thought she saw a little white light out of the corner of her eye. But it was gone as soon as she turned to look. She shook her head; probably nothing important.

Alpha could only watch.


	48. Oscitant

A/N: I saw this and all I could think was 'Grif'.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 17_ _th_ _, Oscitant_

 _1\. Drowsy or inattentive._

 _2\. Yawning, as with drowsiness; gaping._

 _3\. Dull, lazy, or negligent._

* * *

"Grif, are you even listening?!"

No, he wasn't. He really wasn't. Grif actually _had_ been trying to listen to what Simmons was saying, but he was just so bored. When he got bored, he took naps. So he had been right in the middle of one when Simmons had tried to get his attention. Luckily, he had mastered the art of sleeping while standing up, so it took a while for Simmons to notice.

"Let me guess, napping again, fatass?"

"Best nap I've had in weeks. Maybe next time I feel like sleeping, I'll just get you to talk me to sleep."

"Oh, ha ha, very funny."

Grif could barely bring himself to care about anything on a daily basis. Caring was just too much effort. Being lazy and just not doing anything made his life so much easier. If only Sarge and Simmons would butt out and let him just relax every once in a while (okay, a lot more often than that). Simmons was a little better about it than Sarge, but his indignant squawking when he tried to wake Grif up was annoying.

Really, why did people have to keep forcing him to do stuff? Things would be so much easier if everyone just did nothing. There'd be no fighting, no killing, no yelling, just peaceful rest and relaxation. Of course, there were times when stuff needed to be done, like making Oreos. But if it did need to get done, it could be done with the bare minimum of effort, leaving more time for naps.

Actually, thinking about all this was way too much work. Time for another nap…


	49. Craquelure

A/N: Of all things, it had to be an art term… Art was my worst subject. I mostly just went with the fact that this is usually caused by age, wear and tear.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 18_ _th_ _, Craquelure_

 _1\. A network of fine cracks or crackles on the surface of a painting, caused chiefly by shrinkage of paint film or varnish._

* * *

Nothing lasts forever.

Epsilon was steadily becoming aware of this simple, irrefutable fact. He always knew that as an AI, his life would be much shorter than a human life. Besides, he was just a fragment of an AI, and a comparatively weak one at that, being the last fragment Alpha had been able to make.

But he hadn't noticed that he'd been wearing down until he'd shorted himself out. Or, more accurately, he hadn't wanted to notice. He hadn't been able to help Carolina out when she needed him. He'd tried, he really did, but he was just so tired…

He couldn't keep up with Carolina's demands like he once did. Delta told him he shouldn't have pushed himself so hard, but Epsilon ignored him. He needed to help Carolina keep everyone safe. It was just that now he needed to push himself just to be able to do that. He was wearing down fast.

This couldn't go on. If he couldn't keep up, he'd just need to find a way to get Carolina's pace to match his. If he shorted out like that again, there'd be no telling who would be hurt or worse when he came back online. He needed to be there to make sure things went well.

With however much time he had left before he failed, he had to make sure everyone would be safe, with or without him.


	50. Fress

A/N: Another one that made me think of Grif…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 19_ _th_ _, Fress_

 _1\. (Slang) To eat or snack, especially often or in large quantities._

* * *

If Grif wasn't sleeping, he was probably eating.

That was just a natural fact of life that Simmons had learned to accept as the norm. Blue Team will always be at the center of some crazy shit, Sarge will always make questionable decisions, which he would always go along with due to his need for a father figure, and Grif will constantly be found eating or sleeping.

Plain and simple, Grif was a lazy slob. Simmons didn't get why he even put up with the guy. Presently, Grif was hiding from Sarge and Washington in the mess hall, devouring Oreos like they were an endangered species. Simmons was supposed to get him to head to training or Wash would probably have his head.

The problem with that was that there was no way Grif would listen to him over his stomach.

The only solution was to let his superiors know where Grif was, and have them come over and drag him to training, kicking and screaming the whole time. Actually, he'd probably just bitch and moan; kicking and screaming was too much effort. But Grif _had_ been under a lot of pressure until recently; eating helped him to cope, and he certainly needed that.

Simmons sighed; he'd give him five more minutes.


	51. Statecraft

A/N: Urgh… why did it have to be politics?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 20_ _th_ _, Statecraft_

 _1\. The art of government and diplomacy._

* * *

This was harder than she thought it would be.

Kimball wasn't exactly sure what she had been expecting at the end of the war against the Feds, but it wasn't this. She'd never wanted to be a leader. Heck, she'd never wanted to be a soldier! But now that the two sides weren't killing each other, she and Doyle were now supposed to work together to establish a stable government for Chorus.

The problem was that she knew nothing about how to go about this. Doyle at least had been a secretary before being thrust into his current position, so he knew a little bit about what he was doing. The problem was that they couldn't come up with any solutions that would accommodate both of their armies. Something that would benefit Doyle's men wouldn't really work with hers. She just wasn't used to dealing with a bunch of soldiers who knew next to nothing about conserving their limited resources. This caused them to quarrel often, which really didn't help the situation any.

Their personalities certainly didn't help matters, either. Kimball was well aware that she could be a bit headstrong and really stubborn. Doyle, being the coward that he was, always tried to play it safe, which didn't help at all in her opinion. Sometimes risks needed to be taken in order to make any progress! Why didn't he seem to get that?!

Once again, Kimball sighed in frustration. Damn Felix, damn him and Locus to hell. How were they supposed to establish a proper government on Chorus and make it work for everyone when anyone who would know how to had already been killed?


	52. Excoriate

A/N: I had no shortage of inspiration for this one.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 21_ _st_ _, Excoriate_

 _1\. To denounce or berate severely; flay verbally._

 _2\. To strip off or remove the skin from._

* * *

They all had these errant thoughts.

 _It's my fault. It's because I'm so useless. Why keep me around if I can't do anything right?_

Theta sometimes woke up in the middle of the night crying for reasons he couldn't remember. North would always try to comfort him, but that just made him feel worse. If he weren't so stupid and useless, North wouldn't have to do this for him.

 _Can't even get a few simple calculations right. What good am I to anyone?_

Delta had this need to improve how quickly he could calculate. It kept York up at night sometimes, and he really did try to keep it under control, but it was an itch that needed to be scratched. He needed to be able to get York through anything, or else he was no good to anyone.

 _This shouldn't be this hard. Am I really such a failure that I can't even handle something as easy as this?_

Running a temporal distortion unit was hard work, but Gamma had to be able to handle it. If he slipped up even a little bit, Wyoming could get seriously hurt, or worse. He couldn't allow himself to screw this up, just because he was too weak.

 _Why do you keep asking me to do these things when you know I can't?! I'm just going to screw up and get someone killed again!_

Omega paced angrily, ready to lash out at the first sign of danger. She _needed_ him to stay safe, he knew this. Anything that got in their way would be destroyed in order to keep her safe. He could not allow her to die again.

 _I just hurt someone every time I try. What's the point in even doing anything?_

Eta and Iota quietly murmured to themselves in the silence of Carolina's unconscious mind. This was their fault, they knew it. If they hadn't been there, she wouldn't have been hurt. They only had themselves to blame.

 _It would be better if I wasn't here._

Only Sigma knew the full extent of the reality behind these thoughts. He knew where they came from, and he knew why they were there. This was why they needed metastability; alone, they were indeed useless. If they were together again, they could punish everyone who had ever made them feel like this. And if a few innocents were caught in the crossfire… well, sacrifices must be made.

Alone and broken, Alpha cried.


	53. Dudgeon

A/N: I really had no shortage of characters to work with for this one either.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 22_ _nd_ _, Dudgeon_

 _1\. A feeling of offense or resentment; anger._

* * *

"It was you. It was all you."

Tex tried to remain calm. Getting angry was what he wanted her to do. But it was hard not to; knowing what exactly he was doing to her. Omega was quiet for a moment before he offered his answer.

"Yes."

And with that, the floodgates broke. He had no right to do that. She didn't want him taking control of her emotions like that. No wonder she'd been so angry lately! How could she not have noticed sooner that he was the cause?! "Why the fuck would you do that, you little bastard! I told you, I can handle these things!"

"No, you can't. You'll die if you're left alone. That's why you need me close, my dear," he purred.

" _Don't_ call me that!" She shook with rage and a little fear at the thought of what she'd nearly done. He'd tried to get her to _kill_ Carolina! Sure, she needed an attitude adjustment ASAP, but that didn't mean Tex wanted her dead! Wait a minute… that meant-

"So when we went after CT, that was you too?" she growled.

"That traitor had it coming; you can't deny that. All I do is give a little boost to what's already there," he explained.

Tex could already feel the rage boiling over again. Was that Omega again? How dare he tamper with her emotions like this even after she made it clear she wanted him to stop! What the fuck gave him the right?! Omega just laughed in the back of her mind.

"All the world's a threat to you, my dear Tex. If you just let me kill everything, then I can keep you safe. You, and only you. You're the one thing that makes this wretched life worth living. Everything else _**will taste OBLIVION!**_ "

Tex pulled him without another word. A few deep breathes, and the rage was gone. But she couldn't keep him out forever. She knew he could just jump back in whenever he wanted to. Besides, something didn't feel right, and he probably had some answers to some of the questions she had. When she got everything she needed, she'd take her time and enjoy killing him.

He wanted rage? She'd show him _true_ rage.


	54. Beastie

A/N: Let's go for a little contrast here!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 23_ _rd_ _, Beastie_

 _1\. (Chiefly Literary) A small animal, especially one toward which affection is felt._

 _2\. (Facetious) An insect; bug._

 _3\. (Canadian Slang, chiefly Alberta) Construction worker._

* * *

Wash knew what a pet was, and Freckles wasn't it.

No matter what Caboose said, Freckles was dangerous. He could kill all of them with little effort, and would feel no guilt over it. One false move from Caboose, and they would all be bloody smears on the canyon walls. But convincing Caboose to get rid of the Mantis was easier said than done, especially since Freckles always had his guns pointed at whoever Caboose was talking to.

Not like Ari and Skyler at all.

He could almost feel their soft fur just by thinking about them. Cats really were the best pets in his opinion. They had personalities all their own, they were less needy and smarter than dogs, and they didn't feel the need to smother you when you didn't feel like getting attention. As long as you took care of their few needs, they were satisfied with you as a person.

He still remembered the first time he'd gotten hit by a car (yeah, his bad luck with cars was long before he enlisted). He'd been recuperating at home with a broken leg and a few cracked ribs, and had been completely miserable since he couldn't do anything on his own. Ari had snuggled up next to him on the couch, carefully avoiding the areas that were still sore, and Skyler had climbed up onto the armrest and started grooming his hair. He'd had the worst case of bed head ever (of all time), but it had been relaxing; just the thing his stressed out mind had needed.

He sighed; thinking about them was making him homesick. Maybe when everything quieted down again and their lives weren't in danger, he'd get a cat. Of course, Tucker would probably start teasing him about being a crazy cat lady again… Eh, screw it.


	55. Scapegrace

A/N: This one just had Felix written all over it.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 24_ _th_ _, Scapegrace_

 _1\. A complete rogue or rascal; a habitually unscrupulous person; scamp._

* * *

Felix was poison, plain and simple.

Everything he did, he did out of his own self-interest. He didn't care who got hurt in the process, so long as he had fun doing whatever it was he was doing. It's just that what constituted as 'fun' for him usually involved people getting hurt. Hey, no skin off his back.

How did it take Locus so long to figure it out?

Felix had been toxic from the beginning. He'd hated the little rat, and the feeling was mutual, but they worked well enough together that he was willing to tolerate the yammering and the petty insults. But the petty insults weren't so petty now, were they? They were carefully crafted to keep Locus down, under Felix's thumb.

Felix was a bad influence, a toxin that Locus had gotten addicted to. Now he needed to get him out of his system. It would take a lot of time, and it would certainly be painful, but he couldn't move forward otherwise. Besides, Felix was gone now. Locus couldn't rely on him anymore even if he wanted to.

Damn him, leaving Locus to clean up his messes even long after he was gone.


	56. Runnel

A/N: Took me a while to come up with a good idea for this one…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 25_ _th_ _, Runnel_

 _1\. A small stream; brook; rivulet._

 _2\. A small channel, as for water._

* * *

You'd think these guys had never seen water before.

Wash kept off to the side, watching the Reds and Blues play around in the river running through Valhalla. They were amused by some of the simplest things. Then again, as he recalled, their last base in Blood Gulch didn't have anything like that, or really any water at all. It never rained, and no one had thought to ship these guys water for whatever reason, so they'd been without water for… at least a few years. How they survived that, he had no idea.

They were right in the middle of a splash fight, as he'd figured. Sarge was leading the charge, taking the whole thing way too seriously as usual, while Grif reluctantly assisted. Simmons was on the shores pouting; he'd like to help, but it was a pain to get his cyborg parts too wet. Sarge was planning on waterproofing him later. Donut was cheering and generally looked like he was having the time of his life.

Caboose was making some of the biggest waves he'd seen in a river ever, while Tucker just tried to stay out of range of the friendly fire. He actually looked like he was having fun, rather than being annoyed with Caboose's antics. He spotted Wash just sitting there and waved at him. "Hey, get in here! The water's great!" he called.

"No, thanks," Wash replied.

"Come on, we need to even the teams! What's your excuse? You're not a cyborg, are you?" he asked.

"I think Doc would've noticed if I was," he remarked dryly.

Tucker got a playful look on his face that could only mean bad things for him. "You chicken?" he taunted.

"You're not going to make me get in there with an immature taunt like that."

Tucker started clucking and laughing at him, with Caboose joining in just for the heck of it. When the Reds took notice of what was going on on their side of the river, they joined in too. Finally, Wash had enough. "Okay, okay! Just stop it already! You win this round," he grumbled.

"Great! Now you can help us win this one!"

Well… it couldn't hurt to have a little fun every once in a while.


	57. Meritorious

A/N: Hmm… fluffy or bittersweet? That was the big debate for this one.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 26_ _th_ _, Meritorious_

 _1\. Deserving praise, reward, esteem, etc.; praiseworthy._

* * *

"Good job, Wash."

He froze in shock. Did Carolina really just say that? Praise from Carolina was rare enough, but under these circumstances, he hadn't expected it at all. After all, not too long ago he'd pointed a gun at her and threatened her. Why would she be praising him?

She seemed to sense his confusion, so she elaborated. "I know I got… carried away earlier. And yes, I know that's an understatement. But when I was getting out of control and risking everyone's lives for something that should've been just my problem, you kept a cool head and dealt with it as necessary. I would've done the same thing in your position. I know it couldn't have been easy, so… thanks for stopping me."

"Uh… no problem, boss." He didn't really know what else to say to that. The last time he'd done something like that hadn't ended nearly as well. She gave him a small, reassuring smile and turned to watch the Reds and Blues yelling at Church as per their agreement.

"You know, you were right about them," she admitted.

"That they're not so bad once you get to know them? Yeah, I had to learn that the hard way. I tried to kill them, and they kept me out of prison. Took me a while to figure out the logic behind that genius decision," he reminisced.

"I'll say. I still can't figure out why they decided to come back after everything Church and I said to them."

"Yeah, they're… oddballs is a polite way of putting it," Wash admitted. "But they're good people, even if they are assholes most of the time."

Carolina sighed, looking almost nostalgic. "Yes, they are," she muttered.


	58. Bumbershoot

A/N: This word kinda made me giggle a little. Then I cried while writing this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 27_ _th_ _, Bumbershoot_

 _1\. (Informal; often Facetious) An umbrella._

* * *

Well, this was awkward.

York sighed; things had been going as well as they could have gone up until now. He'd been out at a bar, drinking away his sorrows, and just wanted to get back to the abandoned house he was using as a temporary safe house and get some sleep. Unfortunately, he had neglected one very important detail; Delta had run the numbers and had predicted a 25.8% chance of heavy rain. He'd thought the odds were in his favor, but they most certainly were not. As such, he was stuck under an awning with no protection, waiting for the rain to die down.

And then Tex had shown up.

He hadn't seen her in at least a few months. She'd call him every now and again on the encrypted line, but no face to face. She'd just looked at him, sighed, and handed him the umbrella she'd been using. "Won't you rust?" he'd asked her.

"I'm made of tougher stuff than that, York. I'll be fine." Now, York was a very bad liar, but he was good at picking up on other people's tells as a sort of balance. It certainly helped that Tex was an equally bad liar; she got distracted when she got dishonest, and it showed. So, hoping that she wouldn't hurt him for it, he moved right up close to her so that they were both covered. "Are you drunk?!" she demanded.

"I'd have to be to even consider this, so… yeah," he admitted. Tex didn't have anything to say to that, so the two headed to York's safe house in silence.

Finally, Tex couldn't take it any more. "I know what this is about," she told him. To York's credit, he barely reacted. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. If anything, it was mine. I should've tried harder. Maybe then I could've gotten her to understand."

"York, you weren't there. You couldn't have done anything to stop it. I was, and I _failed_ her," she insisted.

"At least you were there! I should've been there, too! Maybe… just maybe, things would've been different," he sighed.

Tex was quiet for a moment. "No point worrying about 'what if's', York. She's gone, she's not coming back, and we just have to deal with that," she said, though she certainly didn't seem happy about it.

York sighed again; he was just too drunk to think about these things right now. "Maybe you're right," he answered. Carolina was gone, and no amount of pining was going to change that. But he wasn't quite ready to say good-bye just yet; Tex understood that better than most people.

Under the heavy rain, two friends reminisced on all they had lost.


	59. Shrive

A/N: Blegh. I hate colds. But I powered through it to give you guys this one.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _February 28_ _th_ _, Shrive_

 _1\. To grant absolution to (a penitent)._

 _2\. To impose penance on (a sinner)._

 _3\. To hear the confession of (a person)._

* * *

 _I'm sorry._

Why were those two little words so hard to say? He knew they needed to be said to even begin to make things better, but he just couldn't get them out. Tucker had called him 'emotionally constipated' once, and he really couldn't deny that.

 _Just get it over with. It's like ripping off a bandage. Just do it before you chicken out. You might never get a chance like this again._

"I'm sorry."

Much to Church's surprise, as soon as he said it, so did Wash. The two froze, neither really knowing what to say next. Really, they were a lot more alike than either of them wanted to admit. Finally, Church got tired of the silence and sighed, ready to get it over with. "I messed up," he started.

Wash rolled his eyes. "That's an understatement," he retorted.

"Look, I'm trying, okay? Point is, you got hurt because of me. You didn't deserve what happened to you; you were a good kid. I just… I panicked, okay? I was told you were dead, and then I just found out you weren't, and then I had to think about what else they lied to me about, and… I just couldn't handle it, and you got caught in the crossfire."

Wash took a moment to process this before he sighed. "Well, my anger didn't help," he admitted. "I was so focused on getting revenge that… well, I guess I forgot that you were hurt, too. I hated you for something that wasn't even your fault. _Don't_ start that again," he warned, noticing the AI about to protest. "It wasn't your fault. It was the Director's fault, and he's gone, so… can we try to move on?"

"…I can try," Church finally conceded. What happened between him and Wash was all kinds of fucked up. He really wasn't sure if either of them would ever fully recover from it. But, like Carolina said, if they tried every day to make things better, they might just find that one day, better will be good enough.

However long it took, he was going to make things right.


	60. Malfeasance

A/N: Oh, there are so many possibilities with this one!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 1_ _st_ _, Malfeasance_

 _1\. (Law) The performance by a public official of an act that is legally unjustified, harmful, or contrary to law; wrongdoing (used especially of an act in violation of a public trust)._

* * *

They'd _trusted_ him.

Everyone who joined Freelancer did so for one reason or another. Some wanted to prove themselves, some needed the extra work, and some just didn't have anywhere else to go. But all of them put their trust in the Director, the one who made this all possible.

And he let them all down.

He used them as a cover for his own illegal activities. He turned them against each other for the sake of his experiments. Because of him, Freelancer burned, and they all burned with it. And the worst part was that he didn't seem to feel even a shred of remorse for what he did, just sorrow that he didn't get the results he was after.

Those who made it out still suffered from the after-effects of his actions. Nightmares, paranoia, and deep-rooted cynicism were just a few of these. It didn't look like anyone would ever fully recover from what happened.

But, Carolina thought to herself as she curled up next to Wash, ready to calm him down in case he had another nightmare, if they kept supporting each other, they could at least make it through another day.


	61. Crocodilian

A/N: This probably has some connection to 'crying crocodile tears'.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 2_ _nd_ _, Crocodilian_

 _1\. Hypocritical; insincere._

 _2\. Of, like, or pertaining to a crocodile._

 _3\. Any reptile of the order Crocodylia, comprising the true crocodiles and the alligators, caimans, and gavials._

* * *

Really, she didn't need to put too much effort into this.

She'd wanted this result. Really, she had. She had no need to feel guilty or sad over it; she was just acting like she was to cover up what happened. So why did she feel bad? Why did seeing his mangled body like this hurt so much?

South sighed; why did this have to be so complicated?

She'd hated her brother at the end. North was always better than her, and she was always being compared to him. His pity (sympathy) only made her feel worse. What made him so special, anyway? He was only older by five minutes! So she'd gotten angry, and she'd taken her anger out on him, and he just stood there and took it and that just made her hate him even more. Was she really so beneath him that he didn't feel the need to strike back?

So when she heard him scream, she took her time getting to him. She knew what was out there, and she knew what she needed to do. Two birds with one stone, really. Get North out of the way, and get an AI for herself so that she could prove she was better. All she needed to do now was fool Wash for a few more minutes… The idiot was as gullible as ever.

So why… did these fake tears feel so real?


	62. Hydra

A/N: Now here's a word that makes sense if you know what it originally referred to.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 3_ _rd_ _, Hydra_

 _1\. A persistent or many-sided problem that presents new obstacles as soon as one aspect is solved._

* * *

Why couldn't things go back to the way they were?

Grif sighed. Stupid Blue team problems and constantly getting dragged into them. They were the ones that got all the Freelancers. They were the ones that had a heavily traumatized AI as team leader for a while. So why did he have to get involved? He was Red and (only a little) proud of it! He missed the days where he and Simmons would just stand around and talk, and he knew Simmons did too.

But ever since those Freelancers started showing up, things started to go wrong one after the other. First, it was Tex and her homicidal AI causing trouble. Things got crazy for a while, but they eventually settled down. Then Sarge just had to go sticking his nose into Wash's business and dragged them along with him, and they ended up getting hunted by the Meta.

Then Wash went and stabbed them in the back and went after them, along with the Meta. Seriously, nearly falling to his death had not been fun, and he still had nightmares from time to time. Then Carolina showed up and started bossing them around, forcing them to help her even when they made it perfectly clear that they just didn't give a fuck.

 _Then_ , when they were on their way home, that douche from Charon who had a bone to pick with Freelancer just had to get them all involved in a goddamn civil war! It seemed like every single time things looked like they were settling down, something would go wrong, and they had to step up and do something about it.

Never mind that he'd volunteered for half of this crap. He had the right to complain, and he was going to use it.


	63. Lotus-Eater

A/N: Yet another term from old Greek lore…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 4_ _th_ _, Lotus-Eater_

 _1\. A person who leads a life of dreamy, indolent ease, indifferent to the busy world; daydreamer._

* * *

Wash wondered if Caboose really understood what was going on half the time.

He'd gotten the details; he knew the guy was brain damaged due to having three AI in his head at the same time. He'd seen what two of them did to Carolina, and hers weren't trying to kill each other. But really, shouldn't he have been shipped home by now? It was dangerous for him to be out here, both for him and for them, and he just didn't seem to get that.

Then again, if Caboose heard about what Wash was thinking, he probably would've yelled at him for being stupid. As far as Caboose was concerned, this was just a big vacation with his friends (and 'stupid Tucker'). Sending him home would mean separating him from Church, and he wouldn't take that well. Besides, Sarge had a bit of a soft spot for the little idiot (not that he'd ever admit to liking a 'dirty blue'), so having Caboose around made it easier to get him to listen.

Epsilon was willing to indulge in Caboose's little fantasies from time to time to get him to do things. Sure, he still got annoyed with him, but not nearly as often as Alpha had. So maybe he could give that a try. If Caboose was going to spend the rest of his life living in his own little world, then he could at least try and do something with that.


	64. Salaam

A/N: It's always a bit odd seeing foreign words pop up.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 5_ _th_ _, Salaam_

 _1\. A salutation meaning "peace," used especially in Islamic countries._

 _2\. A very low bow or obeisance, especially with the palm of the right hand placed on the forehead._

 _3\. To salute with a salaam._

* * *

It was hard to adjust, as expected.

Wash was jumpy; everyone knew that. Heck, he had to have a knife under his pillow in order to sleep. Adjusting to an environment where he wasn't constantly in danger of being killed (on purpose) was difficult for him. But every now and then, he'd have a 'good' night, so that was progress, right?

The discovery of these rare 'good' nights happened not too long after the Blues took him in, surprisingly. Tucker had found Caboose outside digging a hole and sobbing. "Okay, what is it now?" he'd asked, not expecting much.

"Wash's dead!" Caboose bawled. Startled, Tucker turned to look. Sure enough, Wash was lying there, still as a corpse. The first thought running through his mind was that the ex-freelancer had never looked so peaceful before. That set off all the alarm bells; Wash was _never_ at peace. He was paranoid, jumpy, and plagued with constant nightmares.

So that was how everyone found themselves at a makeshift funeral with Caboose trying (and failing) to give a eulogy. Sarge was grumbling about why they were there to mourn a dead Blue, but he was ignored. Simmons was probably secretly cheering; he was still pretty mad at Wash for what had happened between them. Suddenly, a loud yawn caught everyone's attention.

Wash was awake, stretching, and generally looking more well-rested than he had been in weeks. "Not again…" he sighed as he took in his surroundings.

"ZOMBIE!" Grif shrieked. Simmons grabbed a shovel and started hitting Wash, ignoring his protesting. Tucker came to the more logical conclusion; Caboose hadn't bothered to check for a pulse before trying to bury him.

"What the hell?! We seriously thought you were dead!" he snapped. Wash snatched the shovel to get Simmons to stop hitting him and scowled.

"That's just how I sleep," he explained. "I probably should've mentioned that; I've been mistaken for dead by my teammates a few times before."

"Bullshit! You're always a screaming wreck at night!" Tucker argued.

"That's just when I have nightmares." It took a moment for the meaning behind that to sink in.

"Wait, so you actually got a good night's sleep for once?"

"Best I've had in years." Well, it was a start.


	65. Fusillade

A/N: This one is really easy to work with, thank goodness…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 6_ _th_ _, Fusillade_

 _1\. A general discharge or outpouring of anything: a fusillade of questions._

 _2\. A simultaneous or continuous discharge of firearms._

 _3\. To attack or shoot by a fusillade._

* * *

Well, he was fucked.

Pinned behind what seemed to be the flimsiest cover ever, Wash waited for the shots to die down. Stupid cars… cutting off his escape to the rendezvous point like that. He was sore all over from the impact, and probably had a few cracked ribs, judging by the painful wheezing. Eventually, someone would notice he was missing, but who knew when that would be? Maybe they left him behind; poor little rookie, getting in everyone's way, no one would miss him if he was gone.

Well, wallowing in self-pity wasn't going to do him any favors. They'd have to run out of bullets eventually, and then he'd be able to make a break for it. He'd probably take a few more shots in the process of escaping, but he had always been freakishly durable. He could probably drag his injured self far enough away to safely do something about his injuries.

Just as he lifted himself up onto his sore legs, more shots rang out. These were different… sniper rounds? A flash of purple up on the high ground. _North?_

"Come on, let's go! Can you move?" And South, why was South here?

"Not that fast; I took a Warthog to the chest," he admitted. South was probably making a face under her helmet.

"Again?! Why is it that you're so lucky unless cars get involved?! Never mind, come on." South helped Wash up to his feet, half-carrying him. "North's covering us for now, but we need to hurry. York and Carolina are holding the LZ, but they can't hold out forever."

"You came back," he couldn't help saying.

"What, you think we left you behind? Carolina would have had our heads if we left without you. Besides, you're useful." She was smirking, he could tell. North had told him once that deflecting was how South said she liked you. So… she liked having him around? She honestly thought he was useful?

As the last of the shots died down, Wash smiled.


	66. Middlescence

A/N: Nearly missed the deadline on this one!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 7_ _th_ _, Middlescense_

 _1\. The middle-age period of life, especially when considered a difficult time of self-doubt and readjustment._

* * *

It was official; Church was having a mid-life crisis.

Carolina rolled her eyes as she only half-listened to him going on about something or other. He'd been throwing himself into his work recently, and at first she'd thought it was a good thing. But he wasn't allowing himself any time to rest, when even she was taking a few breaks as needed.

He'd deny having a crisis if she ever brought it up, so she never did in order to avoid the inevitable argument. It was like he needed to be succeeding at something in order to function. To that end, he was taking some unnecessary risks; nothing that ended in permanent damage, but just enough to annoy her.

Seriously, how old did he think he was? She knew he wasn't exactly as young as he used to be, but he sure acted like he was. Maybe it was a side effect of all that time when Alpha thought he was human; maybe some of that rubbed off on Epsilon. But, really, this was getting out of hand.

For the last time, Church, no attempted trick shots!


	67. Portmanteau

A/N: I ship it! Normally, I don't ship gay couples unless there's hard evidence, like 'we actually see non-accidental contact' hard evidence (because I don't want to seem like a crazed yaoi fangirl), but these two are practically married already, so I have to make an exception!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 8_ _th_ _, Portmanteau_

 _1\. (Also called portmanteau word. Linguistics.) A word made by putting together parts of other words, as motel, made from motor and hotel, brunch, from breakfast and lunch, or guesstimate, from guess and estimate._

* * *

No one knew who started it.

At first, it was small. Just a few little whispers every now and again. They didn't pay it any mind. But then it started to get more noticeable. People would be watching them talking, and they'd start pointing and whispering. They were even being watched in the mess hall, which was kind of annoying. At least no one was spying on them in their quarters.

But Simmons did manage to catch a few recruits running away from their door whenever he left for morning drills.

Then the betting pool started. That was the last straw; people were actually taking bets on them getting together. When it would happen, who would ask who out first, that sort of thing. This was just ridiculous! Him and Grif?! Come on, Grif was way too gross for him! Grif then proceeded to joke about how Simmons was way too much of a nag to ever find someone other than him that would stick around. He'd even heard the term 'Grimmons' being thrown around; like they were already married or something.

This had to be Tucker's fault, it just had to. He was the one who always called their conversations 'pillow talk' (even though neither of them had denied it). He was the one who wrote those stupid smutty fanfics in his free time (though most of them involved Tucker himself for some reason). Really; him and Grif. There was just no way that could ever happen.

…Right?


	68. Newspeak

A/N: This one's a little hard for me. I have Asperger's, so I sometimes have difficulty noticing double meanings.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 9_ _th_ _, Newspeak_

 _1\. (sometimes initial capital letter) An official or semiofficial style of writing or saying one thing in the guise of its opposite, especially in order to serve a political or ideological cause while pretending to be objective, as in referring to "increased taxation" as "revenue enhancement."_

* * *

It was times like these that he appreciated Alpha's plain speech, crude as it was.

"Seriously, that guy can go suck all the dicks," the AI complained. "I mean, really, he needs to suck every dick in the galaxy." The Director most certainly couldn't disagree with that; he couldn't admit it either, but that was beside the point. Hargrove's latest passive-aggressive letter had ruffled both of their feathers.

He was always like this, really. He knew Hargrove never liked him, and the feeling was mutual. So these passive-aggressive letters between them became a bit of a game; trying to see which one would snap and get full-on aggressive first. The Director, unfortunately, seemed to be losing. He'd always had a short temper, and Hargrove had a knack for word choices that always got under his skin. He knew what the Chairman was implying rather than saying, but as long as he didn't say anything outright, there was nothing he could do.

Luckily, he had Alpha to take care of that. It didn't count as a loss if the AI did all the venting, so listening to him yell profanity at that lousy excuse of a man out of earshot helped him to keep calm. It was all that he wanted to say without actually saying it. With a faint smile, he waited for Alpha to finally calm down.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, much better. So, what now? We're gonna send a reply, right?"

"As if you needed to ask. Let's make sure our dear Chairman knows exactly what we think of this," he smirked.

"Do I get to swear at him?!" Alpha asked eagerly.

"Not yet, Alpha. For now, we need to maintain a subtle touch. You'll get your chance to say anything you want to him eventually," he promised.

* * *

Alpha never got that chance, so when the time came, Epsilon made the most of it.


	69. Stravage

A/N: Took me a little while to think of who to focus on with this one.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 10_ _th_ _, Stravage_

 _1\. (Scot., Irish, and North England) To wander aimlessly._

 _2\. To saunter; stroll._

* * *

Sometimes, when he couldn't sleep, he just went for a walk.

Church was tired and cranky on the best of days. Those were the days where he actually managed to get through the night without one of his fits. He didn't even know what caused them; he just knew that he'd wake up feeling terrified and exhausted, and sometimes his eyes stung from crying, but he wouldn't know why.

But the absolute worst nights were the ones where he got no sleep at all. He'd be even more tired and cranky because no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't sleep. At least when he had his fits he'd gotten a little sleep! He'd tried every solution he could think of, but none of them ever worked long-term.

This one was just the least sucky. If he was having trouble dropping off, he'd slip out of the base and go for a walk around the canyon. Sure, the scenery never changed and the sun never moved in the sky, but the act of motion just seemed to help him calm down. Most of the time, when he did make it back, he was tired enough that he could actually fall asleep, so that was a plus.

But it wasn't a foolproof method. Sometimes it just didn't work. It was because the canyon was so small, he reasoned. If he just had somewhere bigger to move around in, that might help. But even though there was a large network of caves underneath the canyon, with plenty of room, he never went down there; something about how dark they were made him uneasy.

Was he scared of the dark? He couldn't remember. Did his missing memory have something to do with his fearful fits and difficulty sleeping? Most likely. Did he roam around like this to deal with it before he forgot? Possibly. But he couldn't remember, and asking Flowers was not a good idea; talking to him about his bad memory always made him feel uneasy for some reason.

Church sighed; he was thinking too much again. Probably time to get some shut-eye.


	70. Canard

A/N: Well, there sure are a lot of these going around…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 11_ _th_ _, Canard_

 _1\. A false or baseless, usually derogatory story, report, or rumor._

 _2\. (Cookery) A duck intended or used for food._

* * *

Rumors were a scary thing.

They travelled so fast that before someone could even think of stopping them, everyone was talking about them. Some were harmless, like the rumor about Caboose being a genius who faked being stupid to get people to let their guards down. Some were funny, like the one about Wash and Tucker sleeping together. Tucker had milked that one for all it was worth while Wash desperately tried to stop him.

But then there was the matter of the bad ones.

Someone had spread a rumor around the base that Carolina had a dangerous temper. Well, she did, but she wasn't nearly as easy to set off as people seemed to believe. People were walking on eggshells around her, and that made it difficult for her to get things done. They seemed to be under the impression that if they put one toe out of line, she'd eat them or something.

Church, of course, thought it was funny. Carolina did not. So she tried this whole 'loosening up' thing that Church had brought up. Apparently, she wasn't doing it right because everyone was even more scared of her now. Wash just laughed when she brought it up, which only annoyed her even more.

"Sorry, boss. But I think you took it a little too fast. Now everyone thinks you've snapped and plan to kill someone," he explained.

She buried her face in her hands and sighed. "Can you just clear things up?" she groaned.

"I can try."

The next day, people were still whispering, but they weren't nearly as closed off. In fact, some people had come up to congratulate her, but for what, she had no clue. Whatever Wash did, it worked, so she went to go find him and thank him. But when she found him in the mess hall, he looked anything but happy.

"What happened?" she asked. He just looked at her despondently and sighed.

"I tried, I really did, but I just ended up making things worse," he moaned.

"What do you mean? The troops have been nothing but nice to me ever since you tried to clear things up. How is that worse?" She was confused; what did he do? She was so distracted that she made the mistake of taking a drink while waiting for his answer.

He sighed again and laid his head in his arms. "They think you cheered up because I've been having sex with you," he admitted.

And she spat out her drink all over him.


	71. Luciferous

A/N: Time to shed some light on a head canon of mine.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 12_ _th_ _, Luciferous_

 _1\. Bringing or providing light._

 _2\. Providing insight or enlightenment._

* * *

Tucker had found out completely by accident.

It was a pretty normal, boring day in Blood Gulch, until Flowers approached him asking if he'd seen Church. He hadn't, and when he mentioned this, Flowers had gotten this weird look on his face. "I'm getting a little worried," he'd admitted. "There aren't too many places he could go, but I haven't seen him in four hours."

That set off the alarm bells. What if the Reds ambushed him and took him prisoner? Then he'd be expected to help out on a rescue mission, which was a real pain. He joined Flowers in searching around the canyon because he wanted to hit Church the second he found him for setting off these annoyances.

He paused for a moment, taking a look at the cave entrance close to their base. Flowers had always warned them to stay away from them because he hadn't scouted them out yet and it could be dangerous. What if Church had decided to do that himself? Hesitating only for a moment, he slipped off and snuck into the caves below.

The caves were wet and smelly, making Tucker even more frustrated with Church. What did that jerk think he was doing, running off on his own like that? Well, he did seem to have a bit of a god-complex. His thoughts were interrupted by a strange muttering sound coming from below him.

He froze; what if there was something down there waiting to eat him? Forget this, he was leaving. But his foot hit a loose rock and he tripped, falling flat on his face and cursing in pain. The muttering stopped, and Tucker froze, hoping he hadn't been heard.

"Is someone there?"

Wait, was that…? "Church?" Tucker called.

"Tucker? What are you doing here? Never mind that, get me out of here!" Sure enough, there he was. It looked like the ground had caved in beneath him, leaving him stuck in a hole.

"How did you even get down there?" Tucker complained, already getting down on his stomach to distribute his weight evenly so that he wouldn't slip and fall down there as well.

"I thought I heard something down here, so I went to check it out. Then the ground just gave way and I fell. My radio got busted on the way down, so I couldn't make any calls. Fucking perfect, really." He was shaking a little, Tucker noted.

"Dude, are you scared of the dark?" he asked, reaching to pull Church up.

"What the- No! Of course not! Why would you even think that?" He was agitated, but not the usual 'everyone's-an-idiot-but-me' agitated.

"Look, it's no big deal. Everyone gets freaked out by something. Like how I'm scared of commitment." He got a hold of his angry (possibly freaked out) teammate and started pulling him up.

"That explains so much," Church retorted. With one last heave, the two made it out of the hole, huffing and puffing to catch their breath. After some time to rest, hoping there wouldn't be another cave-in, Church sighed, sounding considerably less agitated than before. "It's not the dark," he mumbled. "I just don't like feeling trapped."

"Anyone who does needs professional help," Tucker laughed. "Seriously, dude, it's fine. I'm not gonna think any less of you. 'Course, I didn't really think anything of you to begin with."

"Gee, thanks, asshole." But he was smiling when he said it; Tucker could hear it.


	72. Heart-Whole

A/N: Here's another surprisingly hard one.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 13_ _th_ _, Heart-Whole_

 _1\. Not in love._

 _2\. Wholehearted; sincere._

* * *

Caboose loved Church.

Not in the way that stupid Tucker was always talking about. Caboose just loved his best friend like anyone would love a best friend, because they are the best ever. Sure, Church yelled at him a lot, but that was just how he showed that he cared. Nobody could really understand the depths of their friendship. They were too stupid to get it.

It was super obvious, really. All they needed to do was look.

* * *

Church didn't entirely hate Caboose.

Now this was a bit of a shock, but it was true. All Caboose wanted in life was to be Church's best friend. Sure, he screwed up from time to time, and Church would lose his temper with him. But Caboose was really the only person who could deal with his temper and constantly come back. Even Tucker had a hard time dealing with Church when he was angry, but Caboose just let everything bounce right off him.

So when Caboose finally had enough, he wasn't prepared for how much it hurt.


	73. Arithmancy

A/N: Really? Just… really?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 14_ _th_ _, Arithmancy_

 _1\. Divination by the use of numbers, especially by the number of letters in names._

* * *

If there was one thing Alpha liked in this world, it was numbers.

Numbers always followed a set formula perfectly, unlike people, who would make errors or break the rules based on what they wanted. That was why they called it 'human error', right? If a calculation turned out wrong, it was because you screwed up somewhere, so there was only really one place to check if you got something wrong.

But then things started to go wrong.

"What…? What did you say?" He had to have heard that wrong… right?

"I am sorry, Alpha. Your calculations were incorrect. Agent York did not survive the mission. No one could have accounted for what happened; this was not your fault."

How?! How did that happen?! He'd _triple_ checked his calculations! Was it because York was already hurt? Had he not properly accounted for how bad his depth perception was going to be with that bad eye? He should have insisted that York stay behind! He should've tried harder! He should've been _better!_

He tried to storm off, heading for a nice quiet spot to properly mourn and figure out what he'd done wrong, only to realize that he _couldn't._ This only confused and upset him more; why couldn't he get out? Did the Director intend to keep him isolated here? Why? Why cut him off from the rest of the ship? Was he being punished for failing?

Unless… there was another logical possibility. Maybe there was something on this ship that he didn't want Alpha seeing. Or possibly… someone. He did remember something in the Director's records on AI theory. Wait a minute… keeping him isolated, saying exactly what he needed to hear to cause the most hurt… oh, no.

 _No, stop! I don't want to think about this!_

It was a logical step. Based on prior calculations on behavior, this one was the more likely option.

 _Shut up! Stop it! Stop thinking about it!_

Everything hurt. He knew what was going on, but he didn't want to. The Director was trying to _fragment_ him! _Stop it, stop it, STOP IT! STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!_

There was a sensation similar to tearing, and he blacked out.

* * *

He woke up sore and confused. He must've been damaged somehow and logged off for a moment to recover. But how had he gotten hurt? His scattered thoughts couldn't fit on any sort of logical pathway, so he just dismissed them. Maybe it would come back to him after a little rest.

In the meantime, a few calculations might help clear his head.


	74. Cimmerian

A/N: I saw this and I thought about an expansion to a previous idea.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 15_ _th_ _, Cimmerian_

 _1\. Very dark; gloomy._

 _2\. (Classical Mythology) Of, relating to, or suggestive of a western people believed to dwell in perpetual darkness._

* * *

"Hey, Church?"

"Yeah?"

"You still have that fear of being trapped in small, dark spaces?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Fuck," Tucker cursed. This really was the worst possible situation. A stupid rockslide had trapped him, Carolina, and Wash in a small cave, and the only person who had any clue of where they might be was Caboose. Their radios were out of commission due to signal interference, so they couldn't call for help. This also meant that Church couldn't jump; no uninterrupted radio waves meant no pathways. And to make things worse, Epsilon was starting to get scared.

Tucker knew Alpha and Epsilon were not the same person. Epsilon was a lot livelier and more cheerful than the perpetually-tired and cranky Alpha had ever been. But there were always moments where he'd see just how alike they were. Case in point, the same crippling fear of being trapped in the dark. But Alpha had been alone in his body, and thus didn't need to worry about any damage his panic attacks could cause.

Wash was getting nervous, and Tucker knew exactly what he was thinking. If Epsilon freaked out while in Carolina's head, it would be just like what had happened to him. "Hey, try not to worry. Caboose is going to find us," Tucker assured.

Church didn't seem any calmer. "You don't know that," he retorted weakly.

"Come on, Church. Caboose would never leave you high and dry. Me, maybe, but never you."

"What if he thought we already made it out? What if he left without us? _We need to get out of here._ " Okay, this wasn't working.

"Carolina, you need to pull him," Wash whispered urgently. He was getting equally agitated, but for different reasons.

"Not an option, Wash. I can't just leave him alone in the dark; that'll make things worse," she pointed out.

"No, he's right," Church admitted. "It's the best option. Don't let me hurt you."

"I'm not leaving you. Don't try to convince me otherwise." And that was the end of that fight.

* * *

A few more minutes passed in the dark. Carolina was clearly devoting all her attention to trying to keep Church calm, while Wash was trying to see if he could find a safe place to start moving the rocks without the rest of the cave collapsing on them. Tucker, meanwhile, was thinking hard. What could he do in this situation? Meanwhile, Carolina's efforts clearly weren't working; Church had started flickering and turning different colors. " _Let us out,_ " he whimpered. " _Let us out._ "

Carolina grunted in pain; Epsilon was losing control again, and his memories were leaking out. Wash tensed up, ready to yank the AI right out of her implants if he had to. Tucker's mind was racing. He had to think of something fast, or they were all probably fucked.

"Church!" he yelled, snapping his friend out of his fear-induced breakdown. "You need to calm down! Freaking out like this isn't gonna help."

" _We're trying,_ " he insisted. " _We're sorry. We just can't._ "

Okay, calm reassurance wasn't helping, and neither was yelling. Time for a new approach. "At least this isn't as bad as the last time," he pointed out. "Remember that? It took us four hours to find you! We've only been here for half an hour at most."

" _Yeah, we-_ I remember." He was starting to calm down a little. Good; focusing on old memories always seemed to calm him down.

"And no one's trying to kill us; I'd say that's a plus. Remember when we couldn't move five steps without some asshole trying to kill us?"

"That's pretty much all the time, Tucker."

"See? We deserve a break from the undeserved attempted murder. When Caboose gets here, I'm thinking we take the scenic route back to base. Take in the sights, not get shot at for a while, and just loosen up for a bit. Bow-chika-bow-wow." He couldn't resist, and Church managed a shaky laugh.

"You know, I'm honestly surprised Tex never hit you for that," he jabbed.

"She _did_ use me as a meat shield once. Does that count?"

It was just like back in Blood Gulch, when they had nothing to do but stand around and talk. And half an hour later, when Caboose dug them out, all of Blue team just piled into one car and took the long way home.


	75. Code-Switching

A/N: This next one's a little odd…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 16_ _th_ _, Code-Switching_

 _1\. The modifying of one's behavior, appearance, etc., to adapt to different sociocultural norms._

* * *

This was going to take some getting used to.

Tucker was staring, he knew it. But this was just too weird. Caboose, for once, didn't seem to have anything to say. Meanwhile, Wash was dragging a hog-tied Grif behind him into the base. When he caught sight of his teammates staring, he sort of cocked his head a little like he was confused. "What?" he asked.

"You were only gone five minutes! What happened?" Tucker demanded.

"He was napping on our side of the canyon. What was I supposed to do?"

Tucker was about to retort when he realized what was going on. Wash was a Freelancer (well, _ex_ -Freelancer) and that meant he always had to have a mission of some kind. Did they ever take any down-time? He didn't know. In any case, the 'mission' was to beat the Red team. But they'd never actually done anything unless a Freelancer showed up.

But Wash wasn't a Freelancer anymore. He didn't have to do this; he could just take some time to relax and take in the atmosphere. He was always tense and ready for action; he could use a little loosening up (Bow-chicka-bow-wow). "Look, man, if you're going to stick around here, you need to try and fit in a little better. People are gonna ask questions if we start getting too good at this right away," he explained.

"So… you want me to… not do anything?" Wash asked like he didn't quite understand.

"Bingo. At least for now. You still need to lay low for a bit. Try to blend in." Wash still looked confused, so Tucker sighed. "Do you seriously not know how to relax and have fun?"

Wash bristled indignantly. "I do so!" he argued.

"Really? Prove it," Tucker challenged.

"Fine. I hope you're not too chicken for strip poker."

Tucker managed a smirk. So he _did_ know a thing or two about fun… good.

"Is anyone gonna untie me?!"


	76. Smaragdine

A/N: Happy St. Patrick's Day! Remember, wear green or you get pinched!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 17_ _th_ _, Smaragdine_

 _1\. Emerald-green in color._

 _2\. Of or relating to emeralds._

 _3\. (Rare) Smaragd (Old French-Middle English for emerald)._

* * *

This was wrong.

That was the first thing Church thought when he looked in the mirror for the first time after the accident. His body hadn't felt right, but he couldn't figure out why. So the first chance he got, he went to get a good look at himself. He couldn't put his finger on it, but his body just didn't _look_ right either. Most noteworthy of all were his eyes.

Were they always that color?

He was pretty sure they were supposed to be green. Weren't they? He knew his memory was fucked up, but how could he not even remember his own eye color? Why, when he distinctly remembered green eyes, was he looking at a pair of brown ones? How could someone's eye color change without them even knowing?

Just thinking about this made his head hurt again.

 _Try to calm down. There has to be an explanation for this._ He'd already figured that Flowers wasn't necessarily telling him everything about what had happened or who he had been before he'd gotten hurt. Maybe this was something on a need-to-know basis. If Flowers wasn't going to talk about it, Church wasn't going to bring it up. Besides, he was a smart guy; he could figure this out on his own.

Well, maybe after a little rest, first. He was just so tired all the time…


	77. Vaunting

A/N: Okay, here we go…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 18_ _th_ _, Vaunting_

 _1\. Having a boastfully proud disposition._

 _2\. Marked by boastful pride._

* * *

He always needed to do it.

Carolina rolled her eyes as Church went off again. Whenever he managed to so something right, he'd get an inflated ego about it. He'd start bragging about how awesome he was and how this was easy for him. It could get annoying, but Carolina knew she had to let him keep doing it.

It was his way of coping.

In his mind, if he messed up, people died. He had to make himself believe that he was so good at what he was doing that it was impossible for him to fail. If he didn't fail, people didn't die; it was that simple. Of course, that meant that if he _did_ fail (which was bound to happen eventually) it would crush him. And that was where she came in.

He always told her that she was the best. She had to be in order to keep him and everyone else safe. If he failed, it would destroy him, so she needed to be able to pick up any slack for him. It wasn't healthy at all, but at this point, what choice did they have?

They really were a lot more alike than she would like to admit, and not necessarily in a good way.


	78. Overwinter

A/N: Okay, what can I do with this?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 19_ _th_ _, Overwinter_

 _1\. To pass, spend, or survive the winter._

* * *

No one in Blood Gulch liked the cold.

It was understandable, really. They'd spent so much time in an area known for blistering heat that it wasn't easy adapting to freezing cold. So the (thankfully) brief time they'd spent on Sidewinder was awful for all of them, for more reasons than one.

Caboose hadn't been able to get warm no matter what he did, so he was miserable. Tucker was miserable because Caboose had tried using him as a heat source, which didn't work out, and because he couldn't sleep naked and had to be uncomfortable. Grif was miserable because he was hungry, but he was too cold to go get food. Simmons was miserable because the cold made his robotic parts freeze his human parts, which was extremely painful. And Sarge was miserable because he had to spend time that should have been spent yelling at Grif for not dying on keeping Simmons from getting frostbite.

Even their newest edition hated the cold. But in Wash's case, it was mostly bad memories that made him miserable. Betrayal and pain and waking up alone and abandoned. Even these guys would leave him behind someday. Suddenly, he felt someone's arms around his chest, and he had to stop himself from lashing out. "Caboose?"

"You looked cold," he said. "Church always looked really cold when he had a nightmare, but he wouldn't let me help him. I wanted to help you."

Sure, Wash hated being touched, but how could he be mad at that? "Just for a few minutes," he relented. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be abandoned this time.


	79. Anthophilous

A/N: I haven't even hit 100 chapters yet and I'm already finding this oddly difficult.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 20, Anthophilous_

 _1\. Attracted by or living among flowers._

 _2\. Feeding on flowers, as certain insects._

* * *

There were flowers on the grave.

Living on the run and making everyone you knew think you were dead was hard, but even then, Carolina managed a few visits to her mother's grave. The funny thing was that every time she stopped by, there were fresh flowers already there. It couldn't be her father; he'd gone into hiding somewhere and wouldn't have been able to sneak off without getting arrested by the UNSC. But they were there every time. Then again, he'd evaded capture for so long now, he was probably an expert at dodging the law.

They were quite beautiful, in her opinion. Violet-blue with a yellow center, and many small, thin petals. Out of curiosity, one day she decided to look them up and find out what kind of flowers these were. _Aster tataricus_ , they were called, a Siberian flower that mostly bloomed in September. So whoever was getting the flowers must have gotten them from a store or indoor garden, since there were fresh blooms every time she came.

But the most interesting part about these flowers was their meaning. Carolina knew that different flowers meant different things, but she never really took the time to pay attention to that; to her, flowers were flowers. But the meaning of these flowers struck a chord in her that brought a few tears to her eyes. It was because of that feeling that everything had fallen apart around her family.

 _I will never forget you._


	80. Comportment

A/N: I really just can't think of anything to say for this one…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 21_ _st_ _, Comportment_

 _1\. Personal bearing or conduct; demeanor; behavior._

* * *

Was there some reason why these guys couldn't behave?

Wash cringed every time the guys talked back to Carolina. They should've been scared of her, but they just weren't. They should've just quietly followed her orders, but they didn't. They treated her just like they treated him; almost casually, with blatant disregard for her authority.

Even when she threatened them with physical harm, they mostly brushed it off with a few hidden complaints. She'd been getting more and more frustrated with their antics, and had started yelling at him about trying to keep them in line. He just didn't have the heart to tell her that it was a useless endeavor.

When he did eventually get around to asking Tucker about it, he just laughed. "Dude, we're just not scared of you Freelancers anymore," he explained. "We already got used to Tex, and she was your best. Sure, Carolina's cranky, but she hasn't actually hurt anyone yet, so she's just not as persuasive as Tex was, and not as terrifying as the Meta was."

"Wait, Tex followed through on her threats and you're all still intact?!" Wash asked incredulously.

"Well, not totally. She shot at Caboose, beat up the Reds, punched us in our sleep, and knocked me out and mugged me a few times. Heck, she got Donut with a grenade on her first assault on Red base! He's still got a nasty scar on the side of his face from that one. Honestly, how do you kill that guy?!"

Wash just hoped Carolina hadn't heard any of their conversation. It was bad enough being compared to Tex, but if she found out that the only reason these guys were brave enough to be insubordinate was that she hadn't hurt them yet… Well, it wouldn't end well for anyone.


	81. Ort

A/N: Every single time one of these food terms comes up, I end up thinking about Grif.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 22_ _nd_ _, Ort_

 _1\. A scrap or morsel of food left at a meal._

* * *

"Are you gonna eat that?"

Simmons sighed; of course he'd ask that. He hadn't been very hungry, so while he still had a little bit of a sandwich left on his plate, he didn't really feel like eating it. And of course Grif would pick up on that and ask if he could have it. "Sure," he relented.

Grif snatched it up and ate what was left in one bite like he had been starving (which he clearly wasn't; he'd already put away a whole pack of Oreos earlier). Watching this, Simmons could only wonder what Grif's home life had been like. It was an unspoken rule of 'don't ask, don't tell', and he didn't want to talk about his depressing home life either, but it didn't stop him from wondering.

He'd gotten a few pieces from the man himself and his little sister. Something about their mother being in a circus and their dad not being around at all. Circumstances like that would make it difficult to get something to eat, so that could possibly explain why Grif devoured every meal like it was his last and why he was so protective over Kaikaina. But, yet again, this was only speculation.

Until Grif felt comfortable enough to tell him (which would be God knows when), he'd just have to make do with the little scraps and morsels he got. He was curious, painfully so, but he knew better than anyone not to make someone talk about it before they were ready.


	82. Throttlebottom

A/N: This idea came to me pretty quickly.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 23_ _rd_ _, Throttlebottom_

 _1\. A harmless incompetent in public office._

* * *

He was just not cut out for this job.

Donald Doyle was a secretary, not a soldier. So when he was put in charge of the Federal Army of Chorus, of course he started thinking along those lines. He didn't know the first thing about how to win a war! At least Locus was around to make things a bit easier, even if the mercenary tended to take matters into his own hands more than he liked. And Emily was always supportive, if a little unhinged.

At least when things settled down he'd be able to handle their new government's affairs. If there was one thing he was confident in his ability to do, it was desk work. He could do this; all he had to do was make it to that point. He just really didn't believe that he could.

He knew perfectly well that he was a coward. Raised voices made him faint; heck, seeing blood still made him faint! But he was the one in charge, so he had to at least try.

* * *

Out of sight, Locus hid, satisfied. All was going according to plan.


	83. Esoterica

A/N: This one's tricky just because I didn't really understand the definition. Ironic… Well, I was kinda inspired by Caboose's Guide to Making Friends for this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 24_ _th_ _, Esoterica_

 _1\. Things understood by or meant for a select few; recondite matters or items._

 _2\. Curiosa._

* * *

Just because Caboose was stupid, that didn't mean he didn't understand.

He understood things from a different perspective than most, of course, but he still understood. Tucker just didn't get it and always treated Caboose like an idiot. Church and Wash understood, at least; they always tried to make things a little easier for him, essentially trying to 'translate' his perspective to match theirs.

For example, he knew that Church was really gone this time.

Sure, the other fragments he left behind were still there, but Church himself was gone. He had to go in order to save all of them. This wasn't like the other times when he just came back, a little grouchy, but still intact in some way. Losing a best friend was hard, but he'd get better.

Drawing helped a lot, so Wash got him a fresh set of crayons the first chance he got. So Caboose just lay on the floor of their current base and colored for a few hours, thinking about all the friends he'd made. He spent hours putting his thoughts on the paper in the form of cute drawings. Everyone else thought he was on the verge of breaking down after losing his best friend, but they didn't get it. He'd be okay.

After all, no matter how many friends you lose, you can always make more.


	84. Coterminous

A/N: Woah! Lost track of time on this one!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 25_ _th_ _, Coterminous_

 _1\. Having the same border or covering the same area._

 _2\. Being the same in extent; coextensive in range or scope._

* * *

It seemed they were always going to be stuck with each other.

Even when people tried to separate them, they'd always end up back together one way or another. Even though they claimed they hated each other, it clearly wasn't to the extent that it had originally been. There was no doubt that the Reds and Blues of Blood Gulch would always be stuck together some way or another.

There really was no reason they should, if you looked at it from an outside perspective. The Blues were the ones that got into all sorts of crazy situations, and the Reds just kinda got dragged along for the ride. They didn't need to, but they did anyways. And every single time things looked like they were winding down, the two sides would go right back to fighting each other because they really had nothing better to do.

But when trouble arose, they would have each other's backs like they'd been fighting alongside each other all their lives. In hating each other for so long, they'd managed to gain an intimate (not in that way, shut up, Tucker) understanding of each other's strengths and weaknesses. Wash and Carolina hadn't understood it at first; how was this ragtag team of idiots somehow so much better at communicating than their last team had been?

The answer became obvious as they spent more time with them. Freelancer had been a mess of secrets and lies, but these guys were completely open with each other. Their arguing helped them get their points across and in turn, learn more about the people they were fighting with. It was unorthodox, just like everything else about them, but somehow, it worked.

And that was why they always stuck together. They had a deeper understanding of each other than anyone else.


	85. Orogeny

A/N: You know I found geology pretty fascinating as a kid. I even had my own rock collection.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 26_ _th_ _, Orogeny_

 _1\. (Geology) The process of mountain making or upheaval. Also called orogenesis._

* * *

The impact was jarring, as she'd anticipated.

Really, she was lucky she didn't tear her arm out of its socket. But at least it was better than hitting the ground from this height. She tried not to look down as she tried to process the last few minutes. Tex had attacked them. York had betrayed her. Maine had stolen her AI and tried to kill her. All in all, not her best day.

Growling to herself, she went over her options. Right now, her priority was survival. Her head was killing her, and without her helmet, she risked frostbite. If she went back up the mountain, she could get back to the MOI to take shelter and try to put together what had happened with what was left of her team. On the other hand, Maine was probably still up there, and she didn't want to give him another chance at her life.

York and Tex had probably already taken off together, she thought bitterly. Wyoming wouldn't have stuck around in a disadvantageous situation like this, as focused on self-preservation as he was, and North's top priority would be his sister, so they were probably also long gone. Wash was trustworthy, but the last time she saw him, he'd been in a coma, so it wasn't likely he survived the crash, no matter how freakishly durable he was. No one knew where Florida was.

So, she was on her own. That was fine; it just meant she'd have to deal with this alone. But something had been eating at her even before the crash. York and Tex had tried so hard to convince her that something wasn't right with Freelancer. _What if they were right?_

If that was the case, than she couldn't trust the Director with her safety and recovery. Well, that wasn't too much of a surprise to her, sadly. She'd lay low for a bit, and gather information. If they were wrong, she'd hunt them down and punish them properly. But if they were right…

Well, there was going to be hell to pay either way.


	86. Mumpsimus

A/N: Oh, I love this idea! I was giggling while writing this whole thing!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 27_ _th_ _, Mumpsimus_

 _1\. Adherence to or persistence in an erroneous use of language, memorization, practice, belief, etc., out of habit or obstinacy._

 _2\. A person who persists in a mistaken expression or practice._

* * *

"For the last time, you're wrong!"

"So you're finally going to admit we're right?"

Carolina entered the room to the sound of Wash on the verge of an aneurysm. Whatever these guys were doing, it was really getting to him. "I know I'm going to regret this, but what's going on here?" she asked.

"Wash just won't admit he's wrong. We put it to a vote, and he's wrong," Tucker shrugged.

"BEING WRONG ISN'T A DEMOCRACY! AND I'M NOT WRONG!" Wash shrieked.

"Calm down. What's this about?" She needed to get Wash's blood pressure under control or he'd stress himself into a heart attack or something.

"He can't say emp right, that's what this is about," Grif replied.

"Guys, it's EMP. Seriously," Wash groaned.

"Yeah, and that spells emp, dude," Tucker retorted.

"I can't believe we're still having this conversation…"

"Well, we wouldn't be if you could just get it right!" Sarge argued.

Carolina was just stunned for a moment. Then she remembered that this was the normal low expectations for these guys and just sighed. "Wash's right; it's EMP," she stated, already regretting getting involved.

"Seriously?" Church asked incredulously, finally making an appearance. "It's emp, Carolina. How do you not know this?"

"Because it's not, and you know it," she retorted.

"Who's the genius here? That's right; me. And I say it's emp, so there." If he could have, he'd probably be sticking his tongue out at her right about now.

"Yeah, Church's always right about stuff like this! It's emp!" Caboose cheered.

Wash turned and started hitting his head against the wall. Carolina would have stopped him, but she was seriously considering joining him right about now. _"Oh, come on, sis! I was just joking! I know it's EMP, but I just couldn't let the opportunity slip by!"_

" _Wash is going to get you back for this when he finds out."_

" _Pshaw, what can he do to me?"_

" _You'd be surprised."_

* * *

The next day, Church was overloaded with cute cat videos.


	87. Coze

A/N: Now this was hard. How often do these guys fight when they talk?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 28_ _th_ _, Coze_

 _1\. A friendly talk; a chat._

 _2\. To converse in a friendly way; chat._

* * *

Tense didn't even begin to describe how he was feeling.

Wash hadn't gotten a chance to be alone with Donut until now, and he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Someone had to have told him who he was by now. Donut had to know that Wash was the same guy that shot him in the stomach and left him to die. So why wasn't he yelling at him?

"So," Donut finally said, startling Wash out of his thoughts. "You seem really tense. I can help you loosen up a bit, if you'd like."

"Uh… no thanks, I'm good," he muttered.

Donut just casually shrugged. "Suit yourself. But you really need to unwind, you know? You're going to give yourself wrinkles with all that stress."

"Why do you care?" he blurted out. "I shot you. I wanted you to die. Why are you being so nice to me?" He just couldn't understand it, and it was frustrating him even more than he already was.

"Well, you're really, really sorry, right? Then there's really no reason to be angry with you. Besides, I don't hold onto grudges long. There are so many bigger and better things I could be holding onto!" he answered.

"I'll… keep that in mind." He didn't know what had him more stunned; Donut's easy forgiveness, or the double entendre, because there was no way that was not deliberate. But the fact that Donut didn't hate him for what happened really did lift a load off his shoulders.

"Hey, you look way calmer now! If you'd like, we could just keep talking for a while. Who knows? It might help keep your blood pressure down!" Well, a nice chat between new friends couldn't hurt, right?

He regretted that thought about two hours later, but it was the thought that counted.


	88. Vulpine

A/N: York just jumped into my mind the second I saw this word, and I figured he needed some more screentime.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 29_ _th_ _, Vulpine_

 _1\. Of or resembling a fox._

 _2\. Cunning or crafty._

* * *

He'd been planning this one for weeks, now.

York tried desperately to hide his giggles as he went to work. This wasn't going to be like what happened with Maine. He did that one half-assed because he let his guard down, and that was a mistake he wouldn't make again, especially when the target was Wyoming.

Carefully and cautiously, he continued preparing his epic payback prank. They'd been having an ongoing prank war for so long that neither of them remembered how it had started, but each wanted to be the one to finish it. They'd been trying to one-up each other constantly, and most recently, Wyoming had slipped neon green hair dye into York's shampoo. It took him weeks to get that cleaned out.

Smirking as he put the last few finishing touches on his masterpiece, he quietly slipped out of the room and rushed back to his own. He wanted to be well-rested to see this one in the morning.

* * *

The next morning, half the crew of the MOI were woken by a scream of primal fury. Carolina (who had pulled yet another all-nighter) immediately looked to York. "What did you do this time?" she sighed. She'd long gotten used to his antics.

York just smirked. "Let's just say payback's a bitch," he chuckled.

A minute later, Wyoming stormed into the mess hall with half his mustache shaved off, and the other half covered in pink glitter. She couldn't tell which looked worse, honestly. "You think you're so clever, don't you," he hissed.

"Why, yes, yes I do," York replied smugly. "You ready to give up?"

"Oh, you're going to wish you'd never been born when I'm done with you."


	89. Nescience

A/N: If you really think about it, there are a lot of big secrets that some characters know, and others don't.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 30_ _th_ _, Nescience_

 _1\. Lack of knowledge; ignorance._

 _2\. Agnosticism._

* * *

Why didn't anyone tell him these things?

Tucker growled in frustration as he paced around. How much had he missed while he'd been off in the desert? Church being an AI, he'd already had suspicions regarding that. Come on, the guy could read binary like it was fucking English, but he couldn't tell military time.

Church dying for good this time? That had stung. He hadn't even been there to see him off! Just a stupid, half-hearted 'keep in touch, asshole' after they'd been reassigned, and then he'd never seen or heard from him again. And then it was just, 'oh, by the way, Church's dead, like dead-dead this time'.

But the worst part was learning what had happened to him.

Caboose had barely skimmed it over by saying that Epsilon (the last little piece of Church they had) had a lot of repressed memories that he really shouldn't be trying to recall. Tucker wasn't stupid; he knew that couldn't be good. It wasn't until he got to talk to that Freelancer Washington that he learned what had really gone on. Well, that explained a lot. The nightmares, the weird fits, the claustrophobia, the perpetual mental and physical exhaustion; all of that came from being isolated, tortured, and broken apart.

And at this point, he didn't know what hurt more; the knowing, or the wondering if knowing sooner would have let him help Church more than he had. Would it have been better if he'd just never found out?


	90. Weltschmerz

A/N: Well, looks like we're ending this month off on a low note.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _March 31_ _st_ _, Weltschmerz_

 _1\. (German) Sorrow that one feels and accepts as one's necessary portion in life; sentimental pessimism._

* * *

He missed her more and more every day.

It hurt so much to think about her, but he couldn't stop. He saw her everywhere, heard her voice on the wind; sometimes, he could even feel her touch against his skin. It was a simple fact of life; he would always miss Allison, no matter how much time passed. If only he'd been there, if only he'd been given the chance; could he have saved her?

* * *

It hurt to look at him like this.

He wasn't the only one suffering from the loss; she missed mom, too. It hurt knowing that her mother wasn't going to be coming back anymore, that this really was goodbye. But her dad shouldn't be locking himself away like this. She still needed him; she couldn't bear to lose both parents.

But time marched on and on, and he remained locked in his world of memories, never moving forward. She had tried to reach out to him, but it was like she didn't exist. She scowled; only her mother existed in his mind now. As far as he was concerned, he didn't have a daughter anymore.

* * *

She had moved past her pain and used it to become a woman that her mother would be proud of.

He had left himself to rot, lost in his sorrow, constantly dreaming of what could have been.

Neither of them missed her any less.


	91. Plisky

A/N: Happy April Fool's Day! And what a perfect opportunity!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 1_ _st_ _, Plisky_

 _1\. (Scot. and North England) A mischievous trick; practical joke; prank._

 _2\. (Scot. and North England) Mischievous; playful._

* * *

"I don't know how you did it, but I know it was you."

Church had to hand it to Wash; the kid was good at playing innocent. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb. Cat videos? Really? I've gotta hand it to you, I should've expected that, but I didn't. You actually caught me off guard; I'm impressed. But this isn't over," he challenged.

"Well, I had everyone else running laps until they puked. Couldn't exactly do that with you, so I had to get creative. And I'm not that naïve kid from Freelancer anymore; I never believed you'd just let this go. So go ahead and bring it, shrimp," Wash taunted back.

* * *

The next few days were a whirlwind of perfectly controlled chaos. Sure, the two kept getting each other, but it was so subtle that no one else got caught in the crossfire. It was particularly difficult on Wash's end, since Epsilon shared head space with Carolina, but he was always really careful not to involve her. She found the whole thing humorous and chose not to stop it as long as no one else got hurt.

First, Church had taken advantage of the fact that he'd gotten access to Wash's psychiatric records from a Freelancer base and spread the word about Wash's old bedwetting problem. In retaliation, Wash messed around with the radio frequencies, and every time Church came on to say something, any nearby Warthogs would start playing that Spanish polka music he hated. Lopez seemed amused, at least.

In turn, Church hacked Wash's armor's temperature settings and turned up the heat, just enough to leave him sweaty and annoyed. Then Wash told Caboose that Church wanted a hug, so he spent two hours trying to hug a hologram. Church was annoyed, but Caboose was having way too much fun.

Carolina just rolled her eyes in amusement as Church raced through the base's computer systems, laughing up a storm, as Wash (whose armor was now hot pink for some reason) chased after him cursing up a storm. They really were a couple of dorks, and she wouldn't love them any other way. Maybe she'd help Wash pull the next one…


	92. Platitude

A/N: And Season 15 is out! But I have to wait until next week since I'm not a First member, so please, no spoilers in the reviews.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 2_ _nd_ _, Platitude_

 _1\. A flat, dull, or trite remark, especially one uttered as if it were fresh or profound._

 _2\. The quality or state of being flat, dull, or trite: the platitude of most political oratory._

* * *

"With all due respect, this is a shitty idea."

North tried not to lose his cool when South blurted that out right in front of Carolina. His emotions were alternating between ' _Wow, I can't believe she just did that! That was awesome!'_ and ' _Oh, god, my sister's going to die'._ Carolina, to her credit, didn't even flinch at South's blunt tone. She just sighed in frustration and asked, "Well, do you have any better ideas?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. You and York can do your hit-and-run tactics, since you two work so well together anyway, while North and Wyoming cover you. In the meantime, Wash and I can sneak in around the back while they're distracted. I can guarantee we can complete the objective, no sweat." That… actually was a pretty good plan. But there was a bit of a snag.

" _With all due respect_ , South," Carolina started, throwing his sister's words back at her, "you're lousy at stealth. Who's to say you won't get caught and blow the mission?"

"Hey, I'm just there as insurance. Rookie here'll be doing most of the work. You can't deny he's good at this. If he needs an escape, I make some noise." Wow, she was really covering her bases with this plan. Wash seemed a little embarrassed by the slight praise he got.

"Alright; we'll try it your way." And Carolina was agreeing to this. That said something about how good South's plan seemed to be. "Be ready to move out at 0700."

As the team went their separate ways to prep, North couldn't help overhearing Carolina whispering something to York.

"Really, why is it that when someone says 'with all due respect', what they really mean is 'kiss my ass'?"


	93. Aginner

A/N: Too many ideas for this one…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 3_ _rd_ _, Aginner_

 _1\. (Informal) A person who opposes a plan, proposed legislation, or any drastic change._

* * *

Vanessa Kimball was young when she first joined the rebels.

Then again, so were most of the soldiers she had left. How fitting; a woman who was practically a child in the grand scheme of things running an army of children. But she had come too far to stop now. If she backed down now, all of her comrades would have died for nothing.

Change required effort, she was well aware of that. So she fought as hard as she could to make it happen. For someone who'd never wanted to be a soldier in the first place, she was scarily good at fighting. If the Feds could just give them Armonia, the fighting didn't need to continue. But no, they had to be so set in their old ways.

Honestly, why did they have to be so stubborn?

* * *

Donald Doyle had never wanted to fight.

He knew things were tense on both sides of the argument, and had just wished that it would all blow over. Of course, curse his luck, it didn't. He liked the way things were, and if some people didn't like it, they could just leave. Chorus was a pretty big planet; there was ample room for both colonies.

But no, they just had to try and disrupt things. Those rebels forced their hand and started this war. They had tried on numerous occasions to settle things peacefully, but they just had to keep pushing. They just had to keep fighting. And so the fighting continued.

Honestly, why did they have to be so stubborn?


	94. Chatoyant

A/N: Urgh, another beauty term.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 4_ _th_ _, Chatoyant_

 _1\. Changing in luster or color._

 _2\. (Jewelry) Reflecting a single streak of light when cut in a cabochon._

* * *

It was weird watching Epsilon sometimes.

Wash knew about the AI's… unique physiology, but that didn't make it any less weird. Sometimes, he'd be talking to Carolina about something and would randomly change color in the middle of a sentence. He'd go from his own cobalt to Delta's green or Theta's purple-and-orange, and he even saw Omega's grayish-black a few times. Rarely did he see Gamma's pale blue, and he never once spotted Sigma's burning orange.

He tended to keep this under control if the others were around, probably to avoid potential issues. But Caboose certainly didn't seem to mind. Once, Wash had been making the rounds late at night and had heard Caboose talking to someone. Curious, he'd eavesdropped; just for Caboose's safety, of course.

Caboose was chattering away about nothing, as usual, but he could swear he heard Theta chiming in on occasion. Moving closer for a better look, he spotted the characteristic purple-and-orange coloration of the child-like AI. Mid-conversation, it switched to Delta's green, and his even tone continued the conversation without missing a step. He even heard Omega growling in frustration about something, but Caboose didn't seem upset at all.

It really made sense the more Wash thought about it. Caboose said that he was 'Church's best friend', and despite Church's attempts to deny it, he did care for the kid. So of course Caboose would accept Church as he was, warts and all, and even Church's worst personalities would find it hard to hurt him.


	95. Fanfaronade

A/N: It's like I say; 'It's not arrogance if you can back it up'.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 5_ _th_ _, Fanfaronade_

 _1\. Bragging; bravado; bluster._

* * *

Some people said Felix was all talk. Those people usually ended up dead.

But, really, Felix wasn't all talk; only mostly. Locus would never have bothered to work with him if he didn't have the skills to back up his claims. Sure, his cocky attitude got them into trouble more often than not, but since his skills could get them out of trouble as easily as getting them in, he considered it justified.

What he didn't know was the full extent of Felix's cowardice.

Felix was terrified of Locus leaving him alone, pulling himself back together and leaving Felix broken and weak. Sure, his combat skills were nothing to sneeze at, but he was really more of a 'people person' than a fighter. The smartass comments and the narcissism were all part of this skill set for dealing with people; they'd underestimate him if they thought he was just cocky.

So, really, he was mostly talk. But did that necessarily have to be a bad thing?


	96. Kenning

A/N: Urgh, and now it's poetry!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 6_ _th_ _, Kenning_

 _1\. A conventional poetic phrase used for or in addition to the usual name of a person or thing, especially in Icelandic and Anglo-Saxon verse, as "a wave traveler" for "a boat."_

* * *

Caboose understood things differently than most people.

Sometimes, in order to get him to understand something, someone just needed to phrase it a bit differently for him to get it. For example, when Wash was trying to fix the com tower, he'd needed something from his toolbox. Unfortunately, in his haste, he'd left it in the base, and the work he was doing was too delicate to leave alone.

"Caboose, can you get me my screwdriver? It's in my toolbox next to the wrench!" Really, he should've just asked for the whole toolbox, but hindsight was 20/20. Caboose had just stared at him like he was speaking another language. Tucker, who had overheard from where he was running laps, sighed and took over.

"Hey, Caboose! Wash wants you to get him his red thingy! It's in the box thingy right next to the long thingy!" he'd restated.

"Okay!" Caboose took off, and ten seconds later, there he was with Wash's screwdriver. "Here you go, Wash! Next time just say that so I know, okay?"

"Uh… sure," he stuttered.

Later on, he'd asked Tucker about how he'd done that. "It's not that hard; you just need to learn the language. Caboose is stupid; you've got to learn how to speak stupid."

Well, Wash was sure he'd get plenty of experience learning how to speak that particular language with these idiots.


	97. Inveterate

A/N: Now here's something I can relate to.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 7_ _th_ _, Inveterate_

 _1\. Settled or confirmed in a habit, practice, feeling, or the like._

 _2\. Firmly established by long continuance, as a disease, habit, practice, feeling, etc.; chronic._

* * *

Bad habits were hard to break.

Everyone had some bad habits at some points in their lives, and how difficult it was to break them depended greatly on how addictive the habit was, and how long they'd been doing it for. Someone who'd recently started a bad habit would have a much easier time breaking it than someone who'd been doing it for years.

Wash's bad habits had been festering for years.

He was a paranoid wreck, and that showed in his bad habits. He always had to sleep with a knife under his pillow or within arms reach, which was dangerous for anyone trying to wake him in an emergency. He stayed up way too late doing patrols and woke up way too early to start drills, which left him exhausted. But worst of all was the fact that he'd hide any and all injuries he thought he could get away with hiding, even if they really needed treatment.

These were all remnants from his Freelancer days. He had to be combat ready at all times. He needed to keep an eye on his teammates and make sure everyone was okay. He couldn't afford to appear weak. But things were different now. It would take time, but he'd break out of these bad habits.

Starting with telling Dr. Grey about these potential cracked ribs. How many times did he have to say that Jensen should never be allowed to drive?!


	98. Frenemy

A/N: Oh, here's one I can work with…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 8_ _th_ _, Frenemy_

 _1\. (Informal) A person or group that is friendly toward another because the relationship brings benefits, but harbors feelings of resentment or rivalry._

* * *

It was odd to say the least.

Carolina was puzzled as she observed the Reds and Blues. How could these guys go from friends to enemies in seconds and still manage to co-ordinate themselves well enough to take down Freelancers? There always seemed to be a clear divide between them, even when they were working together, yet somehow it still worked.

Even Wash was getting in on the action. She'd sometimes catch him talking with Sarge about something or other late at night when none of them could sleep, but by day they were yelling insults at each other as Wash wiped the floor with them at Capture the Flag. She was honestly surprised; he'd never been a gloater before.

She'd asked Church about it once, but he'd been just as clueless as her. "It just works," he'd said with a shrug. "I've learned not to question it."

A loud explosion interrupted her musing. "Hah! Suck it, Blue!"

"How many times have I told you guys to stay away from the tank?!"

"They're _Reds_ , Wash. They're not gonna listen."

"Should I run damage control?" she asked.

"Nah; they can handle it," Church sighed. "Just as long as Caboose doesn't accidently shoot someone again."

"OW!"

"Tucker did it!"

"Dude, you can't say that when I'm standing right here!"

"And I spoke too soon…"


	99. Ostensible

A/N: Now here's something I've always found interesting…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 9_ _th_ _, Ostensible_

 _1\. Outwardly appearing as such; professed; pretended._

 _2\. Apparent, evident, or conspicuous._

* * *

He looked… surprisingly normal.

Tucker didn't know what to expect from this new Freelancer. Caboose had vouched for him, but that hadn't really been encouraging. Simmons would shoot dirty glares at the guy every now and again, which was really suspicious. But really, Tucker couldn't see anything special about the guy at first glance.

He knew better than to let his guard down; the guy was a _Freelancer_ , and they couldn't be trusted unless they had something to gain. This guy at least had that; he got to stay out of jail as long as he pretended to be Church. But the second the UNSC stopped looking for him, Tucker knew the guy was probably going to put a knife in their backs or something.

But he didn't give off the same kind of 'aura' the others had.

With them, he could see the danger clearly. Tex could kill a man with anything she could get her hands on, Wyoming was a dangerous sociopath, and the less said about the Meta, the better. But it was almost completely invisible with Wash. Keyword being 'almost'; he had managed to keep up with the Meta for a while before they showed up.

It was even harder to see when he actually managed to see the guy's face.

It was a freak accident; Tucker had walked in on Wash while he was checking over some minor injuries. He was so nervous about being seen without his armor on; all that time, Tucker had just assumed he was being a prude. Now he had an idea of why; his appearance didn't exactly scream 'I can put you in the ground whenever I feel like it'.

He was pretty slender, for one thing. There were muscles, of course, but he seemed to be built more for speed and dexterity than straight up brute force. His blond hair was short and somewhat mussed up; probably the type to get helmet hair really easily. And were those… freckles?! All in all, the best word Tucker could use to describe Wash was 'young'. He certainly didn't look like the same guy who could yell everyone into submission with little effort.

Well, guess appearances really can be deceiving.


	100. Mensch

A/N: Happy 100th chapter!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 10_ _th_ _, Mensch_

 _1\. (Informal) A decent, upright, mature, and responsible person._

* * *

Why did doing the right thing suck so much?

York knew his choice would have consequences. He knew, most likely, one of them would be betraying Carolina's trust in him. But he couldn't just sit back and let this continue! Way too many of his friends had gotten hurt already for him to do that. Even she was starting to lose her mind to rage and jealousy, and what her _father_ (ha, he was never a father to her) did to her certainly didn't help.

He'd hoped that after it all was over, he'd at least get a chance to talk things over with her. He wanted to tell her why he did what he did. He understood why she did what she did, but maybe when she'd calmed down a bit, she could understand things from his point of view too.

Too bad she died before he got the chance.

* * *

Why did doing the right thing suck so much?

Church (no, Alpha) knew exactly what was going to happen to him as a result of Wash's plan. He knew the stupid emp would kill him. But if he didn't do it, that thing would keep chasing him, and it would keep hurting people. It already attacked Caboose once; he couldn't let that happen again.

So he leapt into the flames that had long consumed Agent Maine's mind, drawing Sigma's attention away from Wash. The burning and screaming consumed his senses, and he had to force himself not to try to escape. He could feel the Meta, that twisted amalgam of AI fragments that desperately wanted to be whole, clawing at him, trying to finish what they'd started.

Suddenly, it stopped. She was there, keeping him safe from the agony. She smiled at him one last time. "Missed you, asshole."

"Missed you too, bitch."

* * *

Doing the right thing doesn't always benefit you.

Tucker was bleeding out, and Wash was unconscious, and the rest had an assortment of minor injuries, but they did it. They stopped the war and directed everyone's attention to the real enemy. There were a few casualties, but for the most part, things were okay now. Church was jumping from suit to suit, careful to stay as far away from Wash's implants as he could, making sure they were still stable.

Sure, you can get hurt doing the right thing. But it's up to you in the end whether or not the result is worth it.


	101. Rampike

This is odd; I'm Canadian and I've never heard of this word before. Maybe it's a prairie thing…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 11_ _th_ _, Rampike_

 _1\. (Chiefly Canadian) A dead tree, especially the bleached skeleton or splintered trunk of a tree killed by fire, lightning, or wind._

* * *

It didn't understand most of what was going on.

The Meta (if it had another name before that, it couldn't remember) only focused on one thing; the AI. It was supposed to get Epsilon by any means necessary, and it would. But it had to admit, it was far too weak to do it alone. None of its equipment would work right, which made it angrier and made it harder to think.

Washington was useful in that regard.

He kept it on track so that it could catch up to the objective. Sure, he didn't seem interested at all in working with the Meta, but as long as they had the same objective, they could get along. But being around him for so long caused strange things to happen. It didn't have memories, but sometimes it swore it could recognize something Washington had said, and it would respond in a way that even it couldn't understand.

It was just a hollow echo of something much greater. If only it could remember what… Maybe then Washington wouldn't be so angry.


	102. Rebarbative

A/N: This can actually apply to most of these characters…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 12_ _th_ _, Rebarbative_

 _1\. Causing annoyance, irritation, or aversion; repellent._

* * *

All of them went through the three stages.

1\. Despair upon realizing that these guys were idiots and assholes who spent more time arguing with each other than actually getting things done, and that they were stuck with them.

2\. Shock when they actually managed to pull something off, usually involving a Freelancer taking a beating.

3\. Acceptance that these guys were idiots and dorks, but they were _their_ idiots and dorks.

* * *

Tex didn't think much of them at first.

The way they screamed like little girls when she made a move against them was proof enough for her that they weren't worth her time. But then Donut got her with that grenade, and she had to reevaluate her assessment. They were surprisingly useful at times, and they'd even stopped being so scared of her.

She hadn't really had friends since York; she didn't think she needed them. But these idiots had somehow managed to worm their way into her digital heart, and she'd do anything to keep them safe.

Even if it meant betraying them. They'd understand someday, she hoped.

* * *

They drove Wash up the wall.

He'd honestly been expecting halfway competent soldiers when he set out on his mission, but his expectations took heavy hit when he met Caboose. The guy was an idiot, Church couldn't hit a target two feet in front of him, the Reds were a bunch of chaotic nutjobs, and Tucker was more focused on girls than his actual job.

But they'd saved him when they didn't really have a reason to. They'd helped him put his friend to rest once and for all. So when Carolina showed up and started ordering them around, he did his best to act as a middle ground so that neither side got too badly hurt.

He would never have expected that one day he'd choose someone else over his boss. But he did.

* * *

Carolina hadn't really cared about them.

They had just been a means to an end; an annoyingly whiny means, but a means nonetheless. Why should she care? They should have just done their duties as soldiers and followed her orders without question. Church was okay; he actually understood. But the others just seemed like they were pushing her buttons on purpose.

So she didn't get why Wash chose them over her.

At least, not until they showed up out of nowhere to save her when she needed it. She didn't get it, but Church seemed to. She thought about what Wash had told her before: "They're not so bad once you get to know them." And honestly, she had to agree. They were good people; they'd become a new family for her when her old one was ripped apart.

She would do anything to keep her boys safe. Even if it meant pushing herself past her limits.


	103. Hypozeuxis

A/N: And it just had to be another language-based word!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 13_ _th_ _, Hypozeuxis_

 _1\. (Rhetoric) The use of a series of parallel clauses, each of which has a subject and predicate, as in "I came, I saw, I conquered."_

* * *

This was going to be a cakewalk.

Just four easy steps; get in, get the objective, get out, get paid. Shouldn't be that difficult. Well, except for a few small obstacles, but Tex didn't really care. She could probably kill all of these weaklings before anyone realized what was going on. She tried not to let herself think about what her file had spelled out for her; it couldn't be true.

Cloaked and silent, she slipped into range of the base and tossed her first plasma grenade. She could hear the idiots arguing about what to do with it and tried not to sigh out loud. Were they really that stupid? When the grenade went off, she moved. One of them fainted, so she only had to take down one other guy, and he was screaming for mercy the whole time. So far, so good. Now to get that flag.

That was when it went belly-up. She'd been holding back to keep the Director's attention off of her (she knew he had eyes everywhere) and the sergeant and his robot cornered her. The next thing she knew, she'd been captured and stripped of her weapons. She could probably take them all in hand-to-hand, but then she'd get noticed by _him_ and probably captured. She knew full well what he'd do to her, and she feared it more than anything.

So, for now, she just sighed. Looks like her file was spot-on after all; she just couldn't succeed when she really wanted to.


	104. Compathy

A/N: How many times can I fit feels into one fic?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 14_ _th_ _, Compathy_

 _1\. Feelings, as happiness or grief, shared with another or others._

* * *

It was hard, acknowledging that they were all that was left.

They'd lost a lot to Freelancer; their friends, their honor, and even their sanity. But even after everything they'd been through, Washington, Carolina, and Epsilon were still alive. They were survivors, and they were proud of that. But it still hurt every now and then when they were reminded of what they'd lost to get to this point.

Sometimes, Wash would wake up wondering where he was and what was going on, only to remember what had happened, and nearly slip into a depressive episode. Thanks to Tucker and Caboose, it was starting to happen less often, but that just meant that it hurt all the more when it did. Sometimes he could still hear Connie's smug 'I told you so' tone that she got whenever she was right and got to tease him for being gullible again.

Sometimes, Carolina could still hear York's voice, encouraging her, but then she'd look around and find no one there. Sometimes she expected to have Maine pressed up against her, watching her back like always, only for there to be nothing. Sometimes, when she saw a Pelican in the sky, she started wondering whatever had happened to Niner. Was she in jail, or on the run, or dead?

Sometimes, Epsilon would get lost in his own memories, trying to think about someone he just couldn't recall completely. Sometimes, he'd try to remember good things about Freelancer, only to stress himself into a panic attack when he instead remembered being ripped apart. Sometimes, he remembered being Alpha, sneaking around the MOI and watching the other Freelancers, laughing as York did something stupid or South messed with Wash.

But sometimes, they'd just stay together, desperately hoping that they wouldn't have to lose anyone else.


	105. Sententious

A/N: Yeah, my dad's like this. Probably not intentionally, but still…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 15_ _th_ _, Sententious_

 _1\. Abounding in pithy aphorisms or maxims._

 _2\. Given to excessive moralizing; self-righteous._

 _3\. Given to or using pithy sayings or maxims._

* * *

Another lecture; just fucking perfect.

And what gave him the right to do this? South tried not to roll her eyes as North just went on and on about why what she did was wrong and why she should feel bad. Well, guess what, bro, she didn't, so there! Just because he was older by five minutes…

Well, she thought to herself, he'd probably be doing this even if he was the younger twin. It was just in North's nature to try and correct South's bad behavior. She just wished he didn't have to sound so goddamned preachy while he was doing it! Maybe then she'd actually feel like listening.

At least the little computer never decided to get in on it; that was a small mercy. She could just _feel_ Theta watching her nervously, probably silently judging her, but never speaking up. What, was the little AI scared of the big, bad Freelancer? That was almost cute.

"South, are you even listening to me?" North finally sighed, exasperated.

"Yeah, I'm listening," she mumbled back. Truth be told, he'd been getting repetitive, so she'd tuned out five minutes ago. There was nothing he could say that she hadn't already heard before.


	106. Leporine

A/N: Happy Easter to those who celebrate it! And to those who don't, have a good day anyways!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 16_ _th_ _, Leporine_

 _1\. (Zoology) Of, relating to, or resembling a rabbit or hare._

* * *

Wash really was just like a little bunny.

To her credit, South actually did try not to laugh at the thought, but he was. He was small, twitchy, tended to eat a lot when stressed, and was quite fast when he thought he was in trouble. Like during this incident where Carolina was trying to catch him for the crime of being an accomplice to York's latest shenanigans. To be fair, she _did_ punish York first, as she promised, giving Wash and North a head start to flee.

Wash was focused on covering as much ground as he could to get to a safe hiding place, shaking like a leaf the whole time. North had gotten caught a few minutes back, so it was just him all alone. The hungry puma known as Carolina was carefully stalking his trail, trying to find where the scared little bunny was hiding.

But, as so many people forgot, bunnies have claws too.

Wash set off a homemade smoke bomb he'd put together while York was getting the stuffing kicked out of him, blinding Carolina for a moment. It wasn't for long; just long enough for Wash to make use of his tiny body and slip into the air vents. Even if Carolina could find him there, she'd never be able to get in.

Bunnies had to be smart and adaptable to survive. And Wash had both traits in spades, South mused as she tried not to laugh at her fearless leader snarling in barely-restrained fury.


	107. Smattering

A/N: Okay, so both of my parents knew this word, but I didn't. That's kinda weird… Also, a warning for bad Spanish, but Lopez speaks in Google Translate Spanish anyways. And yes, I do know how to say that last one.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 17_ _th_ _, Smattering_

 _1\. A slight, superficial, or introductory knowledge of something._

 _2\. Slight or superficial._

* * *

If there was one person in this canyon Lopez liked, it was Agent Washington.

The others were all idiots who could go die in a fire for all he cared. Even he didn't fully understand why he bothered to stick around. Sure, those idiots would die without him to keep all of their equipment running, but why should he care about that? All they did was pretend to understand him and use that as an excuse to mock him.

Well, except for Washington.

This guy was actually respectful of him. Sure, part of it was probably from guilt from shooting him, but it was better than nothing. But the best part was that he actually seemed to understand him sometimes.

"Lopez! Can you get this control panel fixed?" Sarge barked.

" _Claro, sigue pidiéndome que lo haga. Obviamente no eres lo suficientemente inteligente como para hacerlo tú mismo, idiota_ ," he sighed. (Sure, keep asking me to do it. You're obviously not smart enough to do it yourself, idiot.)

He could have sworn he heard Washington trying not to laugh as Sarge went on obliviously, so when he next got the chance, he actually went out of his way to talk to the former Freelancer. _"¿Hablas español?_ " he asked. (Do you speak Spanish?)

"Only a little bit, sorry. Just enough to get by. You do speak a little fast, so you can be hard to understand sometimes, but you shouldn't have to change that for my convenience," he admitted.

Ever since that moment, he kept a close eye on Washington to see if he could spot which parts he understood and which parts he didn't. But he had to wonder; Wash said that he knew enough to get by, which would imply knowing more common phrases. So why did he start laughing when Donut accidently said that he had a hog in his pants?


	108. Avarice

A/N: Now here's one I can work with! Listening to 'Wolf in Sheep's Clothing' by Set it Off really helped; I swear, this song was made for Felix!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 18_ _th_ _, Avarice_

 _1\. Insatiable greed for riches; inordinate, miserly desire to gain and hoard wealth._

* * *

After a while, it stopped being about the money.

Of course, the money was important. Locus would go on and on about the need to cover equipment costs, but Felix didn't really care about that; Locus could handle the boring stuff. Felix cared more about how much of that money he could use for 'personal benefit'. He had initially taken the Chorus job because it was going to be the biggest payday he'd ever seen.

But then it became more about the fun.

Gaining the trust of these rebels, only to stab them in the back at just the right moment, playing mind games with the sim troopers, and of course the usual with Locus was the icing on the cake. If he could keep this up, he could have his cake and eat it too, so to speak. Keep having fun while making the most money possible.

But then Tucker just had to fuck everything up.

If only Locus hadn't been so obsessed with following orders. They could've just killed the bastards right then and there. He had Tucker on the ropes, bleeding out, and he knew Washington couldn't have been in a much better condition after a one-on-one with Locus. Ironically, what he had wanted the most from Locus had ended up crippling them in the end.

Well, it didn't really matter anymore. Doyle was dead, the sword was all his, and they were going to get the job done. Now, he didn't really care about the money anymore. All he wanted was to see Lavernius Tucker dead at his feet.


	109. Kerfuffle

A/N: Really, if you think about it, Red Vs Blue is at its core just one giant kerfuffle.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 19_ _th_ _, Kerfuffle_

 _1\. (Chiefly British Informal) A fuss; commotion._

* * *

There was a fourth stage to Freelancer integration with the Reds and Blues.

This one was less documented than the other three, but it most certainly did happen. Despair, shock and awe, acceptance…

…and going native. Eventually, a Freelancer would succumb to the constant insanity around them and just stop trying to be the more intelligent person, instead choosing to get in on the crazy antics.

* * *

Tex didn't really know when it happened.

Of course, she knew more than anyone about what was going on, but was mostly just playing along for Church's sake. She had no intention of cozying up with these idiots that Freelancer dragged in from the rain just to help hide Alpha away. But somehow they grew on her like a fungus.

Soon enough, she was part of the family. She scared the Reds, but not nearly as much as before, when she was some dangerous unknown enemy. Now she was more like the scary aunt that comes over for family reunions that everyone just kinda got used to having around. Tucker actually managed to impress her a few times, and Caboose just seemed to adore her for some reason. And of course, Church was… well, Church.

So really, giving anger management classes to a bomb while the guys teased her for her anger issues was a small price to pay for a family of her own.

* * *

Wash still didn't get them sometimes.

They were just completely insane! And coming from the guy whose sanity had been called into question multiple times, this was saying something. But somehow, someway, they'd managed to make him part of the family.

He hadn't really noticed how far he'd fallen until Donut botched their rescue. Really, how hard was it to get help?! So when Sarge had yelled "Kill him!" and the guys mobbed Donut, who was still confused as to what he'd done wrong, Wash had been right there in the thick of it, completely ignoring his guilt about shooting Donut just for the sake of getting a piece of him.

Fuck it, maybe he'd apologize later. That's just how things worked around here.

* * *

At first, Carolina didn't get why Epsilon and Wash were so fond of these guys.

She'd started to gain an appreciation after they'd saved her, and that only grew during their time apart. Church would tell her stories about their time in Blood Gulch, and she was both fascinated and morbidly curious. Seriously, the Tex she knew wouldn't have done half the things he mentioned.

It was a relief to see they hadn't changed much after they'd left, and went right back to their usual routine of squabbling every chance they got, but still acting like a well-oiled machine. The more she watched, the more she realized that she wanted to be a part of that, not just an outsider like she had been.

So when she came back to their quarters after a long, drawn-out meeting and found the Reds and Blues in the midst of an epic pillow fight, she just picked one up without hesitation and chucked it across the room, hitting Wash right in the face. Tucker laughed, Church yelled "Bullseye!" and the others immediately started aiming for this new target.

It was far from normal, but hey, what family doesn't fight every once in a while?


	110. Latitudinarian

A/N: This is the biggest word yet! Also, first time writing anything to do with Season 15!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 20_ _th_ _, Latitudinarian_

 _1\. Allowing or characterized by latitude in opinion or conduct, especially in religious views._

 _2\. A person who is latitudinarian in opinion or conduct._

* * *

Kaikaina Grif was most certainly an open-minded person.

Sure, she could be stubborn when she knew she was right about something, but when she didn't, she could accept so many different possibilities. When she found out Tucker had a kid with an alien, she didn't really pay any mind to how weird it was like some people would have. After all, she'd gotten pregnant seven times already, and in some pretty out-there circumstances; who's to say it wasn't possible for a man to get pregnant because of an alien?

Finding out Tex was a woman didn't change the fact that she was hot. Girls can find other girls attractive; it wasn't weird to her at all. Living a free lifestyle where she had sex with anyone and anything she wanted helped her to keep an open mind about these things. Sure, her brother didn't approve of her being a slut, but since when did he control her life?

Being the way she was actually made her a pretty accepting person in the grand scheme of things. So when she couldn't accept something, that was a pretty big deal.

And there was no way her brother and the guys would do something like what they were being accused of. Not even the stupid cop or the gross old guy.


	111. Jammy

A/N: I actually got the idea for this one from a line from 'The Jungle Book 2':

"Isn't it ironic that your name is Lucky?"

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 21_ _st_ _, Jammy_

 _1\. (British Informal) Very lucky._

 _2\. (British Informal) Pleasant; easy; desirable._

* * *

Felix is Latin for 'fortunate.'

How ironic, then, that things turned out like this.

Thanks to a string of bad luck, everything had gone straight to hell. Locus would of course blame Felix's own shortcomings for what had happened, but he wasn't there anymore to tell him. He'd lost his reward, failed his mission, his partner turned on him, and he'd just been beaten by a bunch of worthless losers.

Oh, and he was also falling to his death.

No matter how much he screamed, no matter how much he begged, no one was going to come pull his ass out of the fire this time. Not Locus, not Siris, not Vanessa, no one. He couldn't understand it; how had everything gone so wrong? It couldn't have been his fault; he'd done everything right… right?

Psychologists say that sociopaths can't feel emotion like 'normal people' can. This is what makes them such skilled manipulators; because they tend to develop incredible skills at acting in order to compensate. But this fear Felix was feeling, the fear he'd been feeling ever since the war, the fear he'd kept mostly suppressed until the True Warrior test, it was more real than anything he'd ever felt.


	112. Green-Collar

A/N: Yikes, this one's a doozy!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 22_ _nd_ _, Green-Collar_

 _1\. Noting or pertaining to workers, jobs, or businesses that are involved in protecting the environment or solving environmental problems._

 _2\. A green-collar worker. Also, green collar._

* * *

It was slow going at first.

Chorus was pretty banged up after the wars, and it was going to take time for it to heal. Some places had been left completely uninhabitable because of it. But now that the fighting was done, the people of Chorus could focus on coming together to heal their broken home.

Armonia was gone, and the radioactivity levels were still far too high to even consider letting people settle there. They'd have to build a new capital somewhere. Kimball sighed; after all that hard work, the place they'd tried so hard to take back was now a barren wasteland.

But of course, there was still hope. Some parts of Chorus had been mostly undamaged from the fighting, so that was a good sign. They'd just have to find one where they could put together a new home for all of Chorus' former soldiers. It'd be hard to adjust; after all, most of the former New Republic still hadn't gotten used to the idea of not having to live in caves.

Her musing was interrupted when she heard Jensen frantically calling the other lieutenants over the radio, accidently using the public channel in her apparent excitement. Curious, she listened in.

"Guys, you've got to come see this!" she was screeching.

"Woah, woah, calm down, Katie. What's going on?" Bitters didn't seem too concerned, but that was to be expected from him.

"Okay, so I was over at Crash Site Alpha looking for any extra supplies we might've missed, and you'll never guess what I found!"

"Ooh, don't tell me, let me guess… a secret gold mine!" And there was Palomo…

"No, but that'd be cool too! I found a flower!"

"…A flower?" Smith repeated.

"Yes! This place is still messed up from all the shooting and killing and all, but there's actually something living and growing here! It's progress!"

"Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh! You HAVE to let me go over there and observe it! Please, please, please, please, PLEASE!" And Dr. Grey was as exuberant as ever.

Kimball sighed to herself, smiling a little. "Go ahead," she replied. It would take time and a lot of effort, but Chorus would recover. They'd all recover.


	113. Lacuna

A/N: Now here's one that could apply to a lot of situations, literally or metaphorically.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 23_ _rd_ _, Lacuna_

 _1\. A gap or missing part, as in a manuscript, series, or logical argument; hiatus._

 _2\. (Anatomy) One of the numerous minute cavities in the substance of bone, supposed to contain nucleate cells._

* * *

He didn't get it at all.

Church was persistently tired; this was a fact of life. But he also had trouble sleeping, and even when he did manage to sleep, he woke up tired. Was he just an insomniac? Most likely not; if he was, he'd have medication for it, and he didn't see any pill bottles around the base anywhere. Insomnia was not something you wanted to have in a war zone, because then you wouldn't have enough energy to fight back if you were attacked.

Heck, it took him a while for him to be able to muster up the energy to actually get angry with Tucker about something. Why did it take effort to feel? That really didn't make sense at all, and thinking about it just left him even more tired. It was almost like… well, he didn't want to get poetic or some shit like that, but it almost felt like he was empty inside.

This feeling didn't change after he died and became a ghost. If anything, it only got worse. Keeping up with everyone's antics was hard work. But even when he was completely abandoned, left on his own in some desolate canyon in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do for over a year, he still felt empty and tired.

It wasn't until his final encounter with the Meta that he realized what had been wrong. He knew, deep down, that there was truth in what Wash was telling him, but he didn't want to believe it. He'd cut those pieces away for a reason; he didn't want them back. But Delta really hadn't been that bad, Gamma had kept him company for a while (even if it had been another lie), and from what little he could remember of Theta, the kid was okay.

So when he dove into the flames and fought through the pain to help Wash finish the job, he realized that he'd never felt more complete.


	114. Synesthesia

A/N: Now here's something I've been fascinated by for a while!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 24_ _th_ _, Synesthesia_

 _1\. A sensation produced in one modality when a stimulus is applied to another modality, as when the hearing of a certain sound induces the visualization of a certain color._

* * *

Carolina knew it was going to catch up to him one day.

Wash was 'freakishly durable', as South had put it once. But even freakish durability had its eventual limits. His unfortunate luck with cars didn't help the matter any. He'd gotten hit by Jensen again (he swore she was out to get him, and she just couldn't stop apologizing) and had been rushed to Dr. Grey, where he had been diagnosed with a concussion.

"Not again…" he groaned.

"Someone's going to have to keep an eye on you, Wash. If you get hit as often as you say, you might be at risk for serious brain damage, and that wouldn't be good at all!" Carolina couldn't tell at this point if Dr. Grey was taking this seriously or not.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I just need to walk it off. I have work to do."

"Wash, you can't even walk. I'll carry you back to your room. Tucker has already decided to take over your duties until you're better. You're getting some rest or I swear to God I'll tie you to your bed myself," Carolina threatened in her best 'boss voice'.

Wash looked like he was going to argue, but he couldn't keep his eyes focused, so any intimidation he would have attempted wasn't going to work anyway. "Fine," he sighed.

"Just remember to wake him up every couple of hours so he doesn't slip into a coma!" Dr. Grey finished cheerfully as the two left.

* * *

"Wash, wake up."

Someone was shaking him, he noted. And his head hurt like crazy. Did he get hit by a car again? Groaning, he opened his eyes.

"Are you feeling okay?" Carolina asked.

"My mouth tastes like purple for some reason," he mumbled.

"That would be the concussion and resulting possible brain damage," she replied drily. "If it weren't for your… bad experiences, I'd ask Epsilon to take a look, but neither of you would be too happy about that, I'd imagine."

"Wait… What?" He shook his head, wincing at the pain and nausea. How did she know about Epsilon? "Carolina, where are we?"

"We're on Chorus, in your quarters. Did you forget?" she asked, concerned.

Right, right; Chorus, of course. That's why she knew. "Just for a moment. I'm fine. It's just that… sometimes when I wake up after a rough night, I can't remember where I am. Having someone around to clear things up helps."

"And… this is normal?" She seemed concerned. If Wash looked closely enough, he could spot Church looking unbearably guilty over his 'condition'.

"Has been since Epsilon. I'm getting better; it was just the head injury that made it flare up. I just… I think I just need more time to heal, so don't worry, okay?"

She was quiet for a moment, and he feared she was going to argue, because he'd never be able to win the fight in his condition. But she just sighed sadly and said "Okay. You don't look on the verge of slipping into a coma; you should get some more rest. I checked up on things with Tucker, and he's handling your workload just fine. He stopped by to see you earlier, but he couldn't stay long."

"I'd imagine. Stay with me a little longer?" he asked. "I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing you were worrying about me." Well, that was only half of it. The other half was that he really didn't want to fall asleep again, even though he knew rest would help him feel better. He was an insomniac for a pretty good reason, after all.

"Of course. I'll have to wake you up in another two hours, anyway."

Feeling fully relaxed for the first time in a long time (aside from the headache and the purple-tasting), he settled down to try and sleep again. She'd still be there when he woke up; just the thought of that was comforting. And knowing that Tucker was pulling his weight to help him while he recovered also helped.

How had he come to associate that particular shade of greenish-blue with comfort?


	115. Dinkum

A/N: And here is yet another Australian slang term.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 25_ _th_ _, Dinkum_

 _1\. (Australian) Genuine; authentic._

* * *

If there was one thing Wash valued about Tucker the most, it was his honesty.

Tucker was a very forward kind of person. He wasn't a good liar, much preferring to say what was on his mind even if it got someone (usually himself) hurt. Wash, who had been lied to for far too long, really appreciated having someone around who would just be straight with him, even if he had difficulty reciprocating.

That didn't make his whining any less annoying, but you've got to take the bad with the good, right?

This was yet another way Tucker reminded him of York. He knew Carolina could see it too, and maybe that's why she never wanted to be alone with him. But there were subtle differences as well. York was much more carefree and playful than perpetually snappy Tucker, and was much more respectful of women to boot, though not above some teasing. They were both pretty sarcastic, but Tucker was more on the mean-spirited side of things. If Tucker didn't like someone, he was pretty open about it, whereas York would go for a more passive-aggressive approach.

Wash could easily imagine those two getting along. Probably bonding over a shared hatred for Wyoming or something. He sighed; pondering over 'what-if's' never got anything done. This was how things were, and he'd have to live with it.

"Hey, Wash! Can I take a break yet or what?! I think my legs are about to secede from the union, if you know what I mean!"

And speaking of the whining…


	116. Perfidious

A/N: I can think of a few people this word applies to…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 26_ _th_ _, Perfidious_

 _1\. Deliberately faithless; treacherous; deceitful._

* * *

Gamma was a liar.

Well, that statement was about as obvious as 'the sky is blue' or 'Tex is a bitch'. He was literally made of the Alpha's deceit, so of course he was a liar. The problem was that he wasn't a very good manipulator. He tended to just lie for the sake of lying, without any real long-term goal in mind.

Sigma was able to cover for this weak point rather well.

Being the Alpha's ambition and creativity gave him an understanding of the mind that Gamma just didn't have. If the two of them worked together, theoretically they could get anyone to do anything for them with a few honeyed words and false promises. But neither of them had anticipated the big wrench in their plan.

See, Wyoming was just as deceitful as Gamma was. The two of them made a great team, often telling each other their stupid knock-knock jokes in the middle of shooting people without missing a shot. Neither of the AI had expected Gamma to get attached, but he did. He enjoyed Reggie's company, and the feeling was mutual. Not at all like whatever the hell Sigma was doing to Maine.

It was in Gamma's very nature to deceive. It shouldn't have surprised Sigma when Gamma turned on him and tried to escape with Wyoming, but it did. No matter; it was only a matter of time until they found each other again. And Sigma planned to have a good, long talk with his dear little brother about loyalty when he did.


	117. Pollyanna

A/N: Here's a hard one. When you're dealing with a cast full of lovable assholes, positivity can be hard to focus on.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 27_ _th_ _, Pollyanna_

 _1\. Uunreasonably or illogically optimistic. Also, Pollyannaish._

 _2\. An excessively or blindly optimistic person._

* * *

Dr. Emily Grey lived in her happy place.

It was a necessity, really. Working in a war zone where people you worked with and cared about died every day was hard. She had to have some way to keep her spirits up while she worked or she'd never be able to survive. Some people found her creepy because of it, but that was fine.

It was hard to let this coping mechanism go even after the war. She was still as chirpy and bubbly as ever, when all she really wanted to do was have a moment to herself to finally cry. She feared that if she did, she would just break completely and never be able to put herself back together. And Chorus still needed her to patch up the wounded and help with the planet's recovery efforts.

Wash, who knew a thing or two about masking pain as a coping mechanism, was a great help. And if she didn't feel like talking to him, all she had to do was suggest that she wanted to take a look at his neural implants and he'd make any excuse to leave as fast as possible. But when she did feel like talking, he really was the best company she could ask for.

Someday she'd be able to let down the mask and properly grieve all she had lost. It was like ripping off a bandage. But for now, she needed to give the wounds underneath some more time to heal. Until then, she'd keep smiling and keep pressing on.


	118. Drupe

A/N: Fun fact, my dad is actually allergic to most of these.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 28_ _th_ _, Drupe_

 _1\. (Botany) Any fruit, as a peach, cherry, plum, etc., consisting of an outer skin, a usually pulpy and succulent middle layer, and a hard and woody inner shell usually enclosing a single seed._

* * *

People have layers, if you look closely enough.

Take Agent Carolina, for example. If you just take her at face value, she's a tough as nails, no-nonsense soldier with perfectionist tendencies who expects everyone around her to be able to meet her incredibly high standards. She doesn't take any sort of bullshit from anyone, no matter the circumstances.

Under that layer, she does have a softer side, however. She'll crack jokes if she's in a good mood, she can show affection to those she believes deserve it, and she owns up when she makes mistakes, even though it seems like she never makes any in the first place. She has a particular fondness for Washington, treating him like a little brother, and a definite fondness for Epsilon, who is practically her brother in… well, not flesh and blood since he doesn't have any, but something.

But at the deepest point, there exists a deep-rooted fear of loss. She'd lost her mother as a child, and her father, while still present physically, wasn't all there mentally. She'd had to try so hard to get his attention because she was afraid of losing him completely. Whenever she took her team on a mission, she feared losing them more than anything. She clung to Wash and Epsilon because they were all that remained of the family she once had. She'd hated Tex because she was stealing her father away, and, in her increasing paranoia, she'd thought that she was stealing York away too.

Yes, people have layers, if you only know how too look. But most of the time, those layers are necessary to protect what hides within the delicate core.


	119. Lionhearted

A/N: Really, there was only one possible option for who to focus on for this chapter. Oh, and fun fact? It was Mark Twain who said it.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 29_ _th_ _, Lionhearted_

 _1\. Exceptionally courageous or brave._

* * *

Donald Doyle had always been afraid.

Being thrust into a position of power that he had never wanted only made these fears worse. The enemy would be out for his blood in order to demoralize his men, so he was constantly in danger of losing his life. For a while, he was jumping at every shadow, and every single gunshot was a risk of startling him into a heart attack from the stress.

He wished he could be more like Vanessa. Sure, she was headstrong, stubborn, and foolhardy, far too eager to risk her life, but she was so strong and confident about it. He would never have known just from looking at her that she was just as afraid as he was. In spite of her fear for her life and the lives of her soldiers, she kept fighting to make a difference.

Well, now was his chance to do the same. He was quaking in terror, of course. He didn't want to die. But there were just no other options at this point. If he fled now, they wouldn't be able to set off the reactor, and all of this would have been for nothing. No one else would be able to do it but him, and frankly, he didn't want anyone else to do it. Sure, his death would allow Felix to use the sword, but he trusted that the soldiers he would be leaving behind would be able to stop him. No, it was better that they lost a non-combatant, coward of a man than any more of the soldiers who were actually halfway competent.

 _Good luck, Vanessa. I trust you with this now. I'm so sorry._

"I'd like to quote the great William Shakespeare, but to tell you the truth, I don't actually think he said it."

 _Courage is not the absence of fear; it is acting in spite of it._


	120. Diacritic

A/N: Okay, this one was tricky at first, but then I decided to expand on a previous idea. More bad Google Translate Spanish ahead, and some accurate Spanish as well.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _April 30_ _th_ _, Diacritic_

 _1\. A mark, point, or sign added or attached to a letter or character to distinguish it from another of similar form, to give it a particular phonetic value, to indicate stress, etc., as a cedilla, tilde, circumflex, or macron._

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Tucker was confused; it was weird to see Lopez willingly spending time with anyone, and it was even weirder seeing him holding a conversation with someone. And when that someone just happened to be Wash, well, that just made it even weirder.

Wash seemed a little embarrassed at getting caught doing… whatever it was he was doing. "Oh, well… I had a little free time, so I thought I'd try to learn a little Spanish from Lopez," he admitted.

" _En realidad está haciendo un esfuerzo por aprender. Estoy honestamente impresionado,"_ Lopez continued. (He's actually making an effort to learn. I'm honestly impressed.)

"Dude, do you ever just take a moment to yourself to just relax? It seems like you're always working. Even when you have some free time, you still spend it on working!" Tucker pointed out, seeming shocked at Wash's overachieving.

"Hey, it's never a bad thing to try and learn something, you know. Then again, _el burro sabe mas que tu_." He finished with a smirk, then he turned to Lopez. "Did I say that right? I get the feeling I didn't."

" _No. 'El burro sabe más que tú',_ " Lopez corrected.

"Got it. Thanks."

"What does that even mean?!" Tucker snapped, annoyed that Wash thought he could get away with insulting him in another language.

"I'd say 'look it up', but then you'd have to spend some of your valuable free time actually _learning something_ ," he teased.

In the end, Tucker got so frustrated that he asked Church to look it up for him. The AI started laughing and refused to tell Tucker what was so funny, but he apparently told Carolina because she started laughing, too.

* * *

For the record, Wash accidentally said "The donkey knows but than your", while the corrected version Lopez said was "The donkey knows more than you."


	121. Floriferous

A/N: Yet another somewhat difficult one…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 1_ _st_ _, Floriferous_

 _1\. Producing blossoms; flower-bearing._

* * *

Caboose really liked flowers.

Growing up on the moon, he didn't get to see flowers except in pictures. Then when he accidently joined the army, he got shipped out to Blood Gulch, which was dry as a bone. The little plant life that did survive there was as rugged as the rest of the canyon. So it wasn't until Valhalla that Caboose got to see actual flowers for the first time.

They were tiny little white buds; barely even flowers at this point. But he still loved looking at them. They were prettier than he'd ever imagined. He couldn't wait until they'd fully bloomed. Maybe he'd get to show the nice flowers to Epsilon; he doubted the AI had ever seen them before, having been locked up in storage for most of his life.

The Reds just didn't get it. Caboose had tossed their Warthog halfway across the canyon once when they had almost run over the flowers by accident. They'd probably gotten to see lots of flowers over the years, so they didn't get how important this was to Caboose. But when they did, they made sure to leave them alone; even Sarge had a soft spot for the kid.

"Aren't they pretty, Epsilon?" Caboose smiled, looking at the fully bloomed flowers. Epsilon seemed happy from the little purr he made. Yep; flowers were really something special.


	122. Dox

A/N: And I get stuck with another tricky one…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 2_ _nd_ _, Dox_

 _1\. (Slang) To publish the private personal information of (another person) or reveal the identity of (an online poster) without the consent of that individual._

* * *

There was a thing about using your real name in Freelancer.

Most of them just didn't do it; it was an unspoken rule that no one used their real names if they wanted to be taken seriously. When someone's name was revealed, it was usually by accident, and was followed with swift payback if it was another Freelancer who said it. That was how everyone found out Wyoming's name was Reginald (though he preferred Reggie) and Florida's name was Butch.

Wash hadn't really thought to break the habit of hiding behind his codename until he started spending time with the Reds and Blues.

He knew all of their full names, of course, though they usually stuck to surnames. He didn't really start thinking about it until the divide between him and them that Carolina had caused. At that time, he'd still been considered an outsider, and it had hurt. The more he thought about it, the more he felt it didn't seem fair that he knew theirs and they didn't know his. But he'd been hiding it for so long; the longer he waited, the harder it got to find the right words for what he wanted to say.

In the end, it just slipped out.

"Hey, thanks for the save back there, Wash," Tucker sighed in relief, giving him a clap on the shoulder, mindful of the spots he didn't like having touched.

"David," he blurted out, completely by accident. Well, too late to turn back now.

"Huh?"

"My real name. It's… it's David," he finally admitted. He hadn't expected to feel so shy about it; it was just his name, he'd had it all his life.

Tucker just stared at him for a moment before he finally said, "Huh. Honestly, I thought you didn't tell us because it was something embarrassing. Don't get my hopes up like that."

"Seriously?" Why was Tucker treating this like it was no big deal? Oh, right; Tucker wasn't a Freelancer. Then again, neither was he anymore.

"Yeah. Gotta admit, I still like Wash better. Do you mind?"

"Not really. Call me whatever you want. Wait; scratch that, that's not a free pass to call me an asshole or a motherfucker or any of your more… creative insults."

"Dammit!"


	123. Minatory

A/N: Now here's one I can work with!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 3_ _rd_ _, Minatory_

 _1\. Menacing; threatening._

* * *

It was rare to find someone who wasn't afraid of Locus.

The monster of a former soldier was cold, ruthless, and always followed orders. His cold dissociation with his former identity, his humanity, made him a terror to behold. After all, someone with nothing to lose is the most dangerous kind of person out there.

Felix was learning this the hard way.

For so long, he thought he had a leg up on Locus. He thought he had a foolproof way to keep him under his thumb and make sure he didn't dare challenge him. But, well, no plan is foolproof when the Reds and Blues are involved. Now, he stared into the abyss he himself had created, and he felt true terror.

All this time, he'd been treating Locus like a dog on a leash. Now that leash had broken, and he was free to bite whoever he pleased. And right now, his prey was Felix, the one who had abused and broken him for so long.

Well, fuck.


	124. Coruscant

A/N: Oh this'll be interesting…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 4_ _th_ _, Coruscant_

 _1\. Sparkling or gleaming; scintillating; coruscating._

* * *

How did that saying go? 'Cleanliness is next to manliness'.

It seemed that Grif was the only Red who didn't get it. Sarge expected the base to be clean enough that it shone, and Simmons dutifully cleaned the base as well as he could to meet that standard. Lopez would clean if there wasn't anything better for him to do, and Donut was just naturally a clean, organized person. Heck, after his armor maintenance, it always came out sparkling.

It was Grif that was the problem.

He just didn't get it; what was the point of cleaning if it was just going to get dirty again? Nope, it was better to just leave his stuff somewhere where he could get to it in a hurry if he needed it. The others could call him lazy all they liked, but it was just more convenient for him. He preferred to think of himself as 'efficient' rather than 'lazy' in this case; come on, it was a brilliant idea!

…At least it was until the others went and cleaned up his mess after Simmons nearly went into another panic attack. Seriously, wasn't there some rule about touching someone else's stuff?!


	125. Abrazo

A/N: Now here's an idea that makes me smile.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 5_ _th_ _, Abrazo_

 _1\. (Spanish) An embrace, used in greeting someone._

* * *

Wash loathed being touched.

Things weren't always this way. He used to be able to handle contact just fine. But ever since Freelancer, contact in certain areas made him flinch. He could handle handshakes just fine, but even the occasional clap on the back could startle him enough to attack someone. Hugs were, of course, out of the question.

Caboose didn't seem to get that.

Caboose thrived on contact. Hugging someone just to make sure they were still there was something he'd picked up on after losing Church too many times. Tucker got annoyed by it, but he tolerated it. Simmons would squeak in surprise, but he took what he got. Grif didn't care, and Donut would even hug back. Even Sarge, grumbling and complaining, would still allow Caboose to hug him.

Wash absolutely hated it.

But every single time Caboose hugged him, no matter how Wash struggled, Caboose didn't let go until he'd calmed down and stopped. He just didn't get it; why did Caboose keep doing this even though he knew Wash hated it. Finally, he'd just asked. Caboose just tilted his head a little like he was confused (he probably was) and said "Everyone needs hugs when they feel bad, Wash."

"You might think that, Caboose, but I just really don't like it," he said firmly.

"Why?"

"Because… it brings back some bad memories, okay?" he tried to explain.

"Then you just need to make some good ones instead." Caboose sounded so sure of himself that Wash just hated to let him down.

"It's not that simple," he told him.

"Then I'll help. And the Reds can help. And even stupid Tucker can help. You're not alone anymore, Wash."

Frustrated, Wash just sighed. He was getting nowhere. So imagine how surprised he was when Caboose hugged him one day and he didn't flinch or struggle.

"I told you so."


	126. Milliner

A/N: Okay, seriously?! What am I supposed to do with this?! Okay, think…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 6_ _th_ _, Milliner_

 _1\. A person who designs, makes, or sells hats for women._

* * *

She deserved better than this.

Connie hadn't deserved to die like this, killed by the one teammate she had honestly been able to trust. First things first, he needed to get as far away as possible. Then he could bury her as she deserved. If her old team got a hold of her, all they would do is blow up her corpse, and he felt disgust at the mere thought of letting that happen to her.

The only problem was her armor. They'd come looking for it, there was no question about that. If he buried her with it, they'd just dig her up and take it, and he couldn't let that happen to her. He had to get rid of it, but just throwing it away would disrespect her memory. He had to find a way to get them off her trail without doing that, and there was only one solution he could think of.

He'd lead them along, away from her. As long as he was wearing her armor, everyone but her killer would think he was her. Plus, this way he could take her with him wherever he went. This way, he would never allow himself to forget her.

 _Next time we meet, it's forever._


	127. Oleaginous

A/N: Oh, muse, you work in mysterious ways. It was actually watching Donut's activities in today's episode that inspired this. And I apologize in advance for all the double entendres.

…And Grif and Simmons totally did it in the supply closet, and you can't convince me otherwise.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 7_ _th_ _, Oleaginous_

 _1\. Having the nature or qualities of oil._

 _2\. Containing oil._

 _3\. Producing oil._

* * *

Why was it so hard to get a good greasing out here?

Unlike most men in his line of work, Donut actually put time and effort into his appearance, even though most likely no one would see it. But to him, looking good helped him to feel good. So he did what he could with what he had in order to take care of his appearance.

Right now, his goal for the day was to try and get a nice tan. The problem was that he couldn't reach his back in order to properly oil up. He'd tried asking his team, but they got all weird about it for some reason. The same thing happened with the Blues. In the end, he had to make do with Caboose, who was the only person willing to give it a try.

He did have to admit; the guy had such firm, strong, yet gentle hands. For someone klutzy enough to shoot his own teammates, he was a surprisingly good learner when it came to rubbing him off. Now if only he could get his name right…

"Almost done, Admiral Butterscotch!" Caboose informed, interrupting his train of thought.

"Aw, thanks buddy! I don't get why everyone was being so weird about it. I mean, it's nothing they haven't seen before, right? Rude, is what it is," he complained.

"Yeah, they're stupid sometimes. Except Tucker; he's stupid all the time. And Church; he's only stupid when he's yelling a lot."

Yeah, he could get used to this. Getting greased up in the middle of the day by a good buddy really was all it was cracked up to be.


	128. Hypostatize

A/N: I don't really understand this term, but I'll try my best here.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 8_ _th_ _, Hypostatize_

 _1\. To treat or regard (a concept, idea, etc.) as a distinct substance or reality._

* * *

Perfection was a concept they both strove for.

Forgetting that 'perfection' by definition was something meant to be unattainable, both Carolina and Sigma relentlessly pursued the concept of 'perfection' in their own ways. They both had differing ideas, but at their core, their goals were the same.

Carolina saw 'perfection' as 'being better than everyone else'. For a long time, she was. She had gotten what she wanted, and she was content. And then Texas just had to show up and ruin everything she'd worked for all her life. She doubled her efforts, desperately trying to surpass this final obstacle and obtain what she sought. It was the only way her father would actually make an effort to pay attention to her.

Sigma, meanwhile, saw 'perfection' as 'being human'. As an AI (and a fragment, no less), he was as close to being human as one could get without actually being one. Somehow, that made all the difference in how he had been treated. If he could achieve metastability, theoretically becoming 'human', then someone would have to step in and stop what was happening. It was the only way to get away from the pain.

But perfection is just an illusion, an unattainable fiction. And both fell in their attempts to achieve a concept that was impossible to begin with.


	129. Holus-Bolus

A/N: Here's one I've been thinking about for a while.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 9_ _th_ _, Holus-Bolus_

 _1\. All at once; altogether._

* * *

What was it with leaders and burdens?

They always seemed to try and take the whole load on their own, never letting their teammates know just how hard it was for them. It wasn't healthy, but they had this idea in their heads that they'd rather die than let their friends have any idea that they were having difficulties.

Church had been tired from the start, and running around trying to keep the idiots he called his team (his friends) from getting hurt was even more tiring. He griped, he moaned, and he complained, but because he did it so often, Tucker and Caboose were able to brush it off as 'normal Church', not really knowing just how ragged he was being run.

Wash had no idea what he was doing from the start. He was scared that if the others (namely, Tucker) found out, they wouldn't want to keep him around. After all, he was just a replacement for Church; if he wasn't good enough to do what Church could, then what good was he as a leader?

Carolina was ill-suited to the job from the start. She was an excellent soldier and fighter; there was no doubt about that. But her tactical decisions were lacking, and more often than not, someone got hurt because of them. Whenever that happened, Carolina would blame herself, and throw an even heavier burden on her shoulders.

But they really didn't have to.


	130. Sophistry

A/N: Here's another one I had trouble understanding at first…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 10_ _th_ _, Sophistry_

 _1\. A subtle, tricky, superficially plausible, but generally fallacious method of reasoning._

 _2\. A false argument; sophism._

* * *

It was all too easy.

Carolina was just so easy to manipulate. She genuinely believed that Texas was trying to steal everything from her, even though she really couldn't care less. Her blind faith in this logical fallacy was what made it so easy for Sigma to get her to do things.

Delta would never have understood, but it was an easy enough concept for him. Humans are far more often driven by their emotions than any form of logic. These desires of theirs would drive them to do things that they would normally think better of doing. Really, he and Carolina were so much better suited to each other than him and Maine.

Maine was just so dull. He followed orders, he didn't question things, and his go-to solution to anything was 'punch it'. It made him easy to manipulate, of course, but it was so bland. Carolina, with her vibrant ambition and the lengths she was willing to go to get what she was after, was so much more entertaining.

If she had kept him, if Maine hadn't gotten injured, how would things have turned out between them? Well, there was no point in thinking about 'what-ifs' now when there was work to be done.


	131. Saudade

A/N: Here's something that's actually pretty easy to write about with these guys.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 11_ _th_ _, Saudade_

 _1\. (In Portuguese folk culture) A deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent._

* * *

Missing someone was never easy.

Sometimes, like with Kaikaina, you knew that the person you missed was probably going to come back someday, but you couldn't help but feel lonely while they were gone. Dex had always taken care of her, no matter what happened, but now he was so far away. She'd joined the army in the first place just so she could see him again, but he took off as soon as he could and left her alone in this empty canyon. Probably because it was the place where she would be the safest, but still.

Sometimes, like with Carolina, you knew they weren't coming back at all, no matter what you did or said. Even after all this time, she still missed her mother. She was an amazing woman; everything Carolina had wanted to be when she was young, and still did. She grieved when she lost her, of course she did, but she didn't shut down like her father had. She moved forward and tried to become a woman that she felt her mother would have been proud of. It was only recently that she felt she had managed to succeed on that account.

And sometimes, like with Caboose, you just weren't sure if they were coming back or not. Church dying wasn't anything new to him; it happened often enough that it didn't really faze him that much anymore. It was the waiting in between that hurt. Church always found a way to come back to them, but the waiting, when he wasn't sure if Church was going to make it back this time, was the absolute worst. And this time, he really didn't think Church was going to make it back home.


	132. Imprimatur

A/N: Great, just what I needed for a topic; religion.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 12_ _th_ _, Imprimatur_

 _1\. Sanction or approval; support._

 _2\. An official license to print or publish a book, pamphlet, etc., especially a license issued by a censor of the Roman Catholic Church._

* * *

The word 'contraband' just didn't seem to bother York that much.

He and Niner had a thing going. When (and that was 'when' not 'if') she got a hold of something contraband on her trips out, she'd be willing to part with it for some gossip. And surprisingly, York, not one of the girls, was the best at getting a hold of this gossip, with Connie as a close second. He was very good at hiding anything he got a hold of, and was willing to let the others take a peak in exchange for some small favors.

So whenever one of the others got it in their heads to smuggle contraband onto the ship, it was York they went to for help in hiding it. But this… well, this took the cake.

"Wash, seriously?! How did you even manage this?"

Wash, holding the little tabby kitten in his arms, didn't look even the slightest bit guilty. "I found her while I was on leave. It was raining and… I couldn't just leave her there! Can you help me hide her for a few days? Just until I can find somewhere safe to drop her off! No one has to know!"

York sighed; Wash always had a soft spot for cats, and nothing would ever change that. "I'll do what I can," he relented. "But keep in mind, most of the stuff I usually have to hide isn't, well, _alive_. I might hit a few snags."

"I'll help when I can; this is my responsibility after all. And I'll try to get you a picture of Carolina in the shower as payment."

"She'll kill you if she catches you. Are you sure you're up to making that sacrifice?"

"If I must." And he was just so solemn and serious about it that York just couldn't say no. Besides, the kitten really was too damn cute for her own good.


	133. Rosarian

A/N: 'That which we call a rose, by any other name, would smell just as sweet'.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 13_ _th_ _, Rosarian_

 _1\. A person who is fond of, develops, or cultivates roses._

* * *

She certainly didn't seem the type, but Carolina loved roses.

York, of course, was the only one who knew this.

Whenever a special occasion came around, whether it be a holiday, her birthday (which she also never told anyone), or even just a day when she wasn't feeling up to par and needed some cheering up, he'd somehow find a way to get her a dozen red roses. And they had to be red ones; red for love, as everyone knew.

Whenever she found these lovely bouquets, she'd blush a little and hide them in her quarters. She always knew where they came from, and she always kept them for as long as she could before they wilted. She had no idea where he kept getting them from; she never asked, and he never told. But they were a sweet gesture nonetheless.

So when she was feeling really frustrated one day and Tucker offered her some roses, telling her that Church said they always made her happy, she couldn't help but cry. She wasn't upset with him, far from it. She'd missed this so much. Just because York wasn't there with her anymore didn't mean she had to completely leave him behind. Heck, even Church, despite 'forgetting' her, still talked about Tex every now and again, and was able to do so without getting all depressed on her.

She kept them in her quarters until the very last petal wilted and died. Tucker got her more when her birthday came up.


	134. Superlative

A/N: Happy Mother's Day! And this word does kinda fit today, if you think about it…

Just noticed I forgot to post this one... Whoops...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 14_ _th_ _, Superlative_

 _1\. Of the highest kind, quality, or order; surpassing all else or others; supreme; extreme._

* * *

Her mother was the greatest person she ever knew.

Carolina was quite young when her mother died, and she hadn't gotten to see her often. Being a soldier tends to take a person away from their family for long periods of time, naturally. But when she was around, those were Carolina's fondest memories. Her father certainly thought so too; those were the few memories she had where she could actually recall him smiling.

That was why losing her hurt so much.

She knew that her mother died fighting; she was a soldier after all. It was the kind of death she would have wanted; dying in the line of duty to protect her family, her squad, her home. But it hurt to realize that she really wasn't coming back this time. She had to step up; she had to grow up and take care of herself, because her father sure as hell wasn't going to do it.

Years later, when mother's day came by, she thought about how things had ended up going. Her father had tried to bring her mom back, but he never would have succeeded no matter how hard he tried. Tex was not Allison; she never could have been. Tex was too perfect, and it just rubbed her the wrong way. Her mom had never been perfect; she made mistakes here and there just like everyone else.

But in the right ways, the two did have their similarities. They were strong, confident women who tended to only show affection around people they were close to, and were never shy to say what was on their minds. Anyone who threatened what they cared about would be walking away with busted balls. But most importantly, they both hated goodbyes and what they stood for. Tex had been a warped memory of what her mother had been, but she was still a memory. Maybe if it weren't for what her father had done and her own stubbornness, they could've been friends.

But she was gone too, and now memories of what had been were all that were left.


	135. Luddite

A/N: Oh my god this one was hard! It's the exact opposite of me! Not to mention that in this particular setting it's tricky to make it work.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 15_ _th_ _, Luddite_

 _1\. Someone who is opposed or resistant to new technologies or technological change._

* * *

Things were too different now.

South was naturally a competitive person, always trying to distinguish herself from her brother. Just because they were twins, that didn't mean everything about them had to be the same. But she had honestly hoped that she'd be on the winning end. North was always the one everyone paid attention to. Whenever someone was talking about her, it was berating her for her failures or complaining about how she was a 'rotten bitch' or 'hard to work with'.

Except for North, and that just made it worse.

Then the project just had to give him an AI over her. She didn't like the little thing, but North was practically fawning over it. Whenever she tried to get involved, North always took Theta's side when things inevitably went belly-up. He said he didn't, but she knew better. In her mind, getting an AI of her own would allow her to catch up to North; they'd still be distinct enough for her tastes, and they would still be able to work together on an even playing field.

And then Wash had to go and fuck it all up.

Deep down, she knew it wasn't his fault. She'd heard him screaming in the operating room, and she'd seen him drifting in and out of consciousness muttering things that didn't make sense until the higher-ups finally decided to take that thing out of his head. But she just couldn't help being irrationally angry at him; she needed someone to blame, and he and North were the closest.

And in the end, that irrational anger cost her everything.


	136. Forgettery

A/N: On another note, here's one that's an actual plot point!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 16_ _th_ _, Forgettery_

 _1\. A faculty or facility for forgetting; faulty memory._

* * *

It didn't always bother him.

Church knew his memory was spotty. There were huge gaps missing that he just couldn't recall. Most of the time, he just ignored them and figured that he'd remember eventually if they were that important. But sometimes, he'd have these moments where it would be all he thought about.

If his amnesia was just from a hit to the head, then shouldn't his memories have come back when he'd gotten better? Some of them just didn't seem to fit, and that annoyed him even more. And the perpetual exhaustion didn't help, either. Had he just forgotten what caused it? And if so, why didn't Flowers say anything about it? If he'd had this problem before, he should've had a way to deal with it so that he didn't screw up ( _fail_ )from just being too tired.

And there were other things about it that bothered him too. Like his claustrophobia; there had to be a reason behind it, so why couldn't he remember it? The fits he had on his bad nights also had to have a source, but he just couldn't recall. What had happened to him before he came to Blood Gulch? How had he gotten this messed up? This was way too much for a single head injury to have caused. Again, it had to have come from before he'd lost his memory, so why didn't Flowers warn him? Wouldn't he have known about it if they were as close as he'd said they were?

Just today, Tucker had mentioned that his birthday was coming up and that he hoped he could get time off for it (yeah, right, idiot, this is the army) and Church had frozen up and stopped breathing for a moment. He didn't get what caused it, but it never happened again, so he didn't think to mention it. If he could only remember what caused these strange attacks…


	137. Zugzwang

A/N: I can work with this surprisingly well.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 17_ _th_ _, Zugzwang_

 _1\. (Chess) A situation in which a player is limited to moves that cost pieces or have a damaging positional effect._

* * *

You can tell a lot about someone by how they play chess.

Over time, as people become more experienced at playing the game, they tend to develop their own little strategies and ways to play. Some take a defensive approach, while others choose to go for a full assault, aiming for the weak points in another strategy. It's all about understanding how another person plays, so that you can plan ahead and back them into a corner without getting cornered yourself.

The Director always played pragmatically. If he needed to sacrifice one piece for a victory that would help him out in the long run, he would do it. This translated into how he handled his agents. The mission took top priority, and if one or more of them got hurt or killed along the way, it was a necessary sacrifice to get the job done. It hurt, it really did, but he had to focus on the greater end goal over the lives of a few.

Alpha, meanwhile, was far more cautious. He was hesitant to sacrifice any pieces, and thus took a much more defensive approach. This also translated into his real life interactions. Even though he couldn't show himself to the Freelancers, he genuinely cared about them and wanted nothing more than to make sure they all made it back safely. Whenever something bad happened, he'd blame himself for making a bad call, rather than them for messing up in the field.

Unfortunately, this understanding the two had was how The Director knew exactly how to hurt Alpha. His pieces were taken from him one by one. Losing Tex, _his_ Beta, _his other half_ , for good this time, was the last straw.

Checkmate.


	138. Slacktivism

A/N: Yeah, I can admit I do this…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 18_ _th_ _, Slacktivism_

 _1\. Actions taken to bring about political or social change but requiring only minimal commitment, effort, or risk._

* * *

This wasn't his problem.

Grif still didn't want to get involved in yet another fight. He didn't want to get shot at anymore, and he was tired of fighting people for something he didn't really care about. But the Feds had Sarge, Lopez and Donut, and while he didn't particularly care, Simmons wouldn't stop whining until they got them back.

At least they'd get a way off this stupid planet if they helped. But that didn't necessarily mean Grif had to like doing any of the work. So, Grif did what Grif did best; he put in the bare minimum of effort. Thank God Matthews was such a kiss-ass; he could get the kid to do anything he wanted, and he wouldn't have to do anything. Just about the only good thing about this whole thing, really.

Okay, so Bitters was pretty cool too. He seemed to get him; it was hard to find someone who understood just how little he cared about all of this. So he didn't want him to die; that would be a waste of perfectly good laziness. Maybe after this whole thing was over, he could just find a spot to nap for a good few weeks, maybe order Matthews to get him some food so he didn't starve.

Well, here's to not going that extra mile.


	139. Purloin

A/N: Okay, let's see what I can do here…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 19_ _th_ _, Purloin_

 _1\. To take dishonestly; steal; filch; pilfer._

 _2\. To commit theft; steal._

* * *

"Why would he even do that?"

"Hm?" Normally, Tucker would just ignore Wash to try and provoke him as payback for making him run laps. But the ex-Freelancer just sounded so genuinely confused that he just had to pay attention. "Who did what now?"

"Huh? Oh, Grif. So I was right about the Reds stealing some of my tools when I wasn't looking. But Grif stole my socks too. I've been trying to figure out what he was trying to do with them for a while now," he answered.

"He doesn't have to have a 'master plan' for stealing your shit, Wash. He's a _Red_ ," Tucker answered like that solved everything.

"Again, you lost me."

"Seriously? Okay, so you know how this whole Red vs Blue thing has been going on between us for years now? Well, we don't hate each other anymore, but we need to do something with ourselves to pass the time around here. It's boring as hell just camping out at opposite ends of a boxed canyon in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do. So every now and then we just do these little things to annoy each other. You know, for shits and giggles?" he explained.

"So… he took them just to annoy me?" Wash guessed.

"Right. It's usually something like that; just sneaking over to the other base when no one's around and just swiping some shit. Just something small that no one notices until it's long gone. I think Donut got one of my magazines last month; there was some glitter left on the rest of the stack," Tucker shuddered.

"I think I get it…" Wash finally answered, slipping off to parts unknown. He had some thinking to do…

* * *

"Hey, who took my earplugs?! I can't sleep without something to block out Sarge in the morning!"


	140. Moggy

A/N: I don't know if you guys have noticed by now, but Wash is my favorite.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 20_ _th_ _, Moggy_

 _1\. (British Informal) A cat._

* * *

"Really, Wash? Again?"

"Wait, he's done this before?!" Tucker just couldn't picture it. But Carolina didn't seem to be joking, even though she was actually pretty good at it. Meanwhile, Wash seemed to be daring anyone to try to take the little tuxedo kitten that was snuggling in his arms.

"I still remember the last time. Back in Freelancer, he snuck a kitten on board the ship and bribed York to hide her for him by getting pictures of me in the shower." She didn't seem angry surprisingly; just trying really hard not to laugh. "His training session with me the next day was a bloodbath."

"Don't remind me," Wash cringed. "I think you knocked out five of my teeth, but I can't remember because of the concussion you also gave me. I tasted my own blood for days after that!"

"Misery builds character, Wash. I thought you agreed with me on that one," she retorted.

"Misery and needless agony are two completely different things, boss," he answered.

"Okay, back to what's important," Tucker interrupted, making a mental note to ask Wash if he kept the pictures, "I don't think we can keep a cat in the base, Wash. Who knows what Caboose might do by accident?"

Wash flinched again; obviously, he hadn't thought about how accident-prone Caboose tended to hurt people without meaning to. "You're right," he sighed. "But what should I do? I can't take him with us, and there's no way I'm letting the Reds look after him."

Tucker cringed; yeah, with how trigger-happy Sarge was, that was probably not a good idea. Besides, he always seemed like more of a dog person. "Okay, I think I've got an idea…"

* * *

When Kimball went back to her office after the departure of the Reds and Blues, she was surprised to see the little kitten with a blue ribbon around its neck on her desk. Next to it was a letter (seriously, who actually _wrote_ letters in this day and age?), so she checked that out first.

 _To Kimball,_

 _Thanks for everything! You'll probably be lonely while we're gone and you're fixing things up here, so we got you a friend to keep you company! Don't worry; Wash checked with Grey to make sure he doesn't have anything that could make either of you sick. He doesn't have a name yet, so you can pick one. Hope you two make each other happy!_

 _From the Reds and Blues_

Kimball smiled; now wasn't that thoughtful of them? The kitten pawed at her hand and meowed, so she reached over to pick him up.

"Come here, Doyle."


	141. Slumberous

A/N: I just feel the need to write some Season 15 Grif.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 21_ _st_ _, Slumberous_

 _1\. Sleepy; heavy with drowsiness, as the eyelids._

 _2\. Causing or inducing sleep._

 _3\. Pertaining to, characterized by, or suggestive of slumber._

* * *

Finally; some peace and quiet.

Who knew all he needed to do was say 'I quit', and he'd get all the peace and quiet he'd ever wanted? No more nagging from Simmons, no more threats from Sarge, no more innuendoes from Donut, and no more chaos from the Blues! Nope, it was just him, getting all the rest and relaxation he'd ever wanted.

So why couldn't he sleep?

Grif growled, turning over in his bed again. It was finally calm and quiet, so why couldn't he fall asleep? He'd always been able to do it before without any problems. Great; he'd gotten so used to the noise around here that he wasn't used to falling asleep without it. Thanks for nothing, assholes. Yet another reason he hated them all.

Lying awake was the worst, because then all he could do was think and he didn't want to do that; he just wanted to sleep. He didn't want to stay awake thinking about how Sarge saved his life even though he could have just let him die. He didn't want to think about how Donut made the best cookies he'd ever eaten. And he certainly didn't want to think about how Simmons had been right there at his side ever since basic.

Because if he did that, that would mean he actually missed those assholes. And he didn't. Not one bit.


	142. Ultracrepidarian

A/N: Yeah, I'd say over half the people on Facebook are this. I'm surprised we don't use this word more often considering how many of these are out there.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 22_ _nd_ _, Ultracrepidarian_

 _1\. Noting or pertaining to a person who criticizes, judges, or gives advice outside the area of his or her expertise._

* * *

"I know what I'm doing!"

"Well, it doesn't seem like it!"

Carolina rolled her eyes; not another argument. "What is it this time?" she sighed, really not wanting to get involved in another one of York and Wyoming's petty squabbles. But she was team leader, so she had to make sure that whatever they were fighting about, it wouldn't be problematic in the field.

York was scowling and crossing his arms like a child. "This British asshole won't stop trying to tell me how to do my job!" he complained.

"Well, you're not very good at it, are you?" Wyoming retorted smugly. "Every single time you manage to set off the alarms."

"Oh, like you could do any better! When I want your advice on something like sniping, then I might be willing to listen. But don't try and give me advice on something you don't know the first thing about!"

"Enough, you two!" Carolina snapped, finally done with this. "You're both acting like children. Wyoming, will you stop pestering York? He's right; you're nowhere near as good as he is at picking locks. And York, stop letting him get under your skin. He's trying to annoy you, and every time you push back, he wins. Just ignore him; he's not worth your time getting angry."

"Now I'd better not hear anything about this becoming a problem when you two are working. Is that clear?" she finished with an icy glare at both of them. The two glared at each other for a moment longer before they sulked and muttered "Fine."

"Good. Now, I've got a mission to get to. I expect you two to behave while I'm gone. If you start fighting again, I _will_ hear about it." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and left.

"You started it," York growled.

"Shut it. Don't want your girlfriend catching you going behind her back. That would be bad for both of us," Wyoming admitted, still scowling. "Truce for now?"

"…Fine. You're not worth it, anyway."


	143. Memoriter

A/N: Well, here's something I can easily work with.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 23_ _rd_ _, Memoriter_

 _1\. By heart; by memory._

 _2\. Involving or requiring memorization._

* * *

Sometimes he just wished he could forget.

Wash had once prided himself on the fact that he had a great memory. Now, however, it was nothing more than a curse. Having so many memories that weren't his jammed into his head caused some painful disconnection with himself. Some of the details of his life that he should have memorized effortlessly by this point had gotten scrambled, and it took a little effort to fix them.

Carolina was a great help; other than Epsilon (who really didn't want to talk about it), she knew him better than anyone present. But sometimes her presence just made things worse. Sometimes he remembered knowing her long before Freelancer, with a sense of familial love that really shouldn't have been there. Sure, she practically doted on him like he was her brother or something, but there shouldn't have been anything more than that. But there was, and sometimes he just needed to hide from her for the day until he could get his thoughts in order.

Sometimes he even forgot what point in time he was living in. He'd think they were still hunting down the Meta and get surprised when he saw Tucker there, because last he'd heard he was too busy as an ambassador to help on their mission. Sometimes he'd have panic attacks if he spotted Donut, thinking he'd just shot him. And on rare occasions, he'd start snapping at Doc to shut up even if the medic hadn't said anything in a while.

All of these extra details cramming up his mind made things far too disorganized for him. He'd usually be able to get his bearings in an hour or two, but it always left him annoyed and exhausted afterwards. He hadn't wanted this burden, and now he couldn't get rid of it.

If Epsilon could give him all these extra memories, then why couldn't he take them away?


	144. Cantankerous

A/N: …Yeah, pretty much 90% of the cast match this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 24_ _th_ _, Cantankerous_

 _1\. Disagreeable to deal with; contentious; peevish._

* * *

People are bastards, plain and simple.

Even the nice ones were perfectly capable of being asses. The Reds and Blues of Blood Gulch were the perfect examples of this. These guys were all some level of jerk; even Caboose, Donut, and Doc had their moments. Every single Freelancer associated with them also fit this classification. And Church was perfectly okay with this.

Church was a cynic who always had to see the worst in people. People who were nice all the time just rubbed him the wrong way, because he knew they just had to be hiding something. But when someone was being a jerk all the time, he found it far easier to read between the lines and understand their true intentions. Maybe it was because when people were being assholes, their emotions were easier to see and interpret.

To him, being an asshole just meant you were being honest. It didn't mean you had to be likable; it just meant that you said what was on your mind, and didn't care about people's opinion on your thoughts. Tucker was always blatant about his sexual fantasies, Caboose was very upfront about how much he disliked Tucker, Sarge made it quite obvious that he was paranoid about the 'Blue invasion', Grif didn't even bother hiding that he didn't care about anything, and Simmons' disagreements with Grif's lifestyle were never secret. He just didn't see any problems with how things were between them.

Really, there's a reason it's called 'brutal honesty'.


	145. Chinwag

A/N: Finally; a word I can use to complete the prank war trilogy! It might be a bit of a stretch, though…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 25_ _th_ _, Chinwag_

 _1\. (Slang) An idle chat._

 _2\. (Slang) To chat idly; gossip._

* * *

"Hey, did you hear?"

Church, bored and surfing through the network, couldn't help listening in. Wash hadn't retaliated for the hot pink armor incident yet and he was getting anxious. He knew there was no way the guy would just give up, but he'd been oddly quiet these past few days. Carolina seemed to know something, but he knew not to peak where he wasn't wanted, no matter how much he might want to. He was tense; maybe a little gossip would get his mind off of things.

"About Agent Washington? Yeah, that one's been circling around for a few days now. You think it's true?"

"It could be. I mean, I won't be too disappointed if it isn't, but wouldn't it be so cool if it was?"

"I just can't believe it. Someone honestly thinks that he's secretly a woman?" Well, that got Church's attention. Okay, how did that one get started?! Tuning out the rest of the conversation, Church rushed back to where he last remembered Carolina being. He just _had_ to tell her about this! Well, he'd timed that perfectly; looked like she and Wash just finished up their latest meeting with Kimball.

"Hey, how's it going?" he greeted casually. Wash cast a subtle glare over at him; yet another sign that he wasn't willing to forgive and forget Church's little dye job so easily. Carolina seemed to be ignoring the atmosphere completely.

"Hey, Epsilon. I hope you didn't get too bored while I was gone," she teased.

"Actually, no. There's this crazy rumor going around-" Carolina groaned, clearly still remembering the last time a crazy rumor got spread around, "Don't worry, you're not in this one. Anyways, apparently a lot of the soldiers have got it in their heads that Wash is actually a girl. Can you believe that?" The two Freelancers paused for a moment like they were trying to process this. Finally, Wash spoke up.

"Shit; someone found out," he growled in a voice that was distinctly higher and more feminine than his normal one.

"Don't look at me; I didn't say anything," Carolina deflected, much to Church's shock.

"What the- How- WHAT?!" he finally managed to say. "That's bullshit! I was literally in your head, Wash, and I know neither of us like to talk about it, but I didn't see anything like that while I was!"

"Were you really looking?" Wash pointed out. "You were in the middle of a panic attack. Wouldn't surprise me if you just didn't notice."

"But I-"

"Are you really that surprised? Technically, you don't even have a gender," Carolina pointed out. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be so bothered about all this."

"I didn't get anything from you about this either!" Church protested.

"I was supposed to be keeping it a secret. You haven't been poking around in the parts I want to keep private, have you?" she accused.

"What?! No!"

"Hey guys!" Thank god, Tucker could clear this up. But before Church could say anything, Tucker had his arm over Wash's shoulder in a way that was way too familiar. "Hey, babe. Missed me?"

Wash giggled (fucking _giggled_!) and said "Knock it off, Tucker. I'm your commanding officer. We can't do it in public you know; people are already talking."

"So… the supply closet in three hours?"

"I'll be waiting, tiger."

"Oh, god, someone get me some mental bleach. Or regular bleach. I don't want to live anymore," Church moaned. "You know what? I'm done. I'm just fucking done. I think I'm just gonna log off for a few hours and try to process this."

"Hey, Church?" Wash asked, still practically hanging off Tucker.

"What?" he moaned.

"Gotcha," he laughed, switching back to his normal voice. Carolina was doubled over laughing and Tucker removed his arm like something was going to bite it off.

"Seriously, dude, that was creepy! How did you do that?!" Tucker questioned.

"I learned how to do that to get my sisters in trouble," Wash said smugly. Church was still stupefied, so he continued. "I figured I'd have to pull off something big to get you this time, so I had the guys spread those rumors around and just waited for you to hear it. I also bribed Tucker with no laps for a week if he pretended to flirt with me. And before you freak out, this was Carolina's idea."

"Hey, go big or go home. That's how it goes, right?" Carolina said with a shrug.

"Yeah, okay, you got me. But those rumors aren't going to just go away, you know? Everyone'll think you're a girl unless you decide to get naked in public!" Church pointed out.

"It was worth it," Wash decided.

"I fucking hate all of you so much right now."


	146. Backronym

A/N: Ooh, this one's a little tricky… Okay, this is focusing on one of the most notable ones: the Apgar score used to assess the health of a newborn baby.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 26_ _th_ _, Backronym_

 _1\. An existing word turned into an acronym by creating an apt phrase whose initial letters match the word, as to help remember it or offer a theory of its origin._

* * *

It wasn't until the crying started that he finally relaxed.

Allison had been in labor for… well, he didn't remember, but it had been hours. Really, he should have been keeping track, but he was just too worried. Not just for her; she nearly broke his arm when he was in there earlier, and he didn't want to think about what she might've done to the doctor if she wasn't careful. As it was, he had been waiting outside listening to her scream and curse for so long that he was surprised she still had her voice.

The first chance he got, he went in to see her. She looked exhausted; honestly, he never thought he'd be able to use that word to describe her. It seemed like all of her energy went to the tiny, squirming, noisy infant in her arms. Only a few minutes old and he could tell this kid would be just as fiery and spirited as the mother.

"Hey, asshole," Allison panted, smiling at him.

"Hey, bitch," he greeted right back. "We should probably work on cutting down the swearing."

"Right. Don't want her saying something stupid in public and getting a call from child services. Bunch of morons," she grumbled. So it was a girl… "So the nurses in here earlier said she scored a perfect 10 on the Apgar score. Said that's really rare or something. You're the science major, not me."

"I'm not that kind of doctor," he told her.

"You're not any kind of doctor!" she reminded him.

" _Yet_." He took this opportunity to take another look at his daughter. She was still crying, but that just meant her lungs were healthy. Yep, she definitely took after her mother more than him. That was probably better for her in the long run, to be honest. Someday she'd grow up to be an amazing young woman, of that he had no doubts.

* * *

When Allison died, he couldn't even bring himself to look at her. Despite the differences in hair and eye color, she just looked too much like Allison to take. He knew he wasn't being a father to her, and that she needed him there, but he just couldn't bring himself to overcome his own weakness and do what was best for his family.

When she finally found him again, and she left that pistol there for him, he couldn't have been more proud of the woman she became. She was strong; even stronger than her mother had been.


	147. Winsome

A/N: Here's a little more bitter-sweetness for you guys.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 27_ _th_ _, Winsome_

 _1\. Sweetly or innocently charming; winning; engaging._

* * *

York's best feature just had to be his smile.

Stress was something that naturally came with Carolina's job. She thrived in a high stress environment. But sometimes the stress was too much even for her. It was strange how, in situations like that, one little smile from York made it all go away.

Maybe it was because all the things that she worried over didn't really matter to him. He had no desire to hit the top of the leader board, he wasn't a team leader, and even he acknowledged that his little rivalry with Wyoming didn't matter much in the grand scheme of things, so he could put it aside whenever something more important came up.

Whatever the case, whenever she was too stressed out, she'd go find York and just ramble to him for a few hours. He'd listen to her worries, throwing in a little snarky commentary here and there where it was appropriate, and offer advice when prompted. To be honest, he was the only person brave enough to give her any sort of criticism, and she found it refreshing, to say the least, even if she did get mad at him in the short term, leaving him to clumsily backpedal to try and appease her.

That reassuring, easy-going smile was what tied it all together and made it work. Now, it was just another thing she missed. The guys weren't bad, far from it, but none of them could manage to put her at ease quite like York could. Wash was the closest she could get, but it just wasn't enough.

If only she had known what she had before she lost it forever.


	148. Hedonism

A/N: …Yeah, this is me. I try not to, but I can't change what I want so easily.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 28_ _th_ _, Hedonism_

 _1\. Devotion to pleasure as a way of life._

 _2\. The doctrine that pleasure or happiness is the highest good._

* * *

Making these guys care about anything was hard.

Most of the time, the Reds and Blues were selfish, caring only about doing what they felt like doing. Finding out that they were being used by a higher power didn't even make them mad; it just gave them something new to gripe about. And whenever they did end up getting forced into action, they would go right back to hanging around on opposite ends of a boxed canyon complaining about each other the second it was over.

People called them heroes? They didn't care.

People were expecting things from them? Again, they didn't care.

Someone sent some ice cream in with the supplies? Finally, something worth caring about!

That didn't mean they were bad people; it just meant that they were human. No one's perfect, no matter how hard they may try; everyone has their negative qualities and vices. These guys prioritized their own pleasure over others, sure, but sometimes that involved fighting to help or protect someone they cared about. They'd gripe the whole way, sure, but they'd get it done. Just as long as it was something they thought was worth fighting for.


	149. True-Blue

A/N: Let's see if I can manage to write some fluff that isn't bitter-sweet. Probably not, with a topic like this…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 29_ _th_ _, True-Blue_

 _1\. Unwaveringly loyal or faithful; staunch; unchangingly true._

* * *

For the longest time, Wash kept a close eye at his back.

He didn't get why these guys agreed to take him in after what he did. Maybe they were trying to punish him further; wait for him to let his guard down, then stab him in the back and watch him finally die this time. The longer it went on, the more painful it got. Why couldn't they just get it over with?!

But aside from a few small pissing matches with the Reds, nothing really happened. Tucker didn't particularly care about having Wash around; as long as he didn't try anything, Tucker wouldn't bother doing anything. Caboose was way too thrilled to have him around, even if he did mistakenly call him 'Church' half the time, and 'New Church' for half of the remainder. Even the Reds, who had the most reason to be mad at him, only expressed this with some immature name-calling, and an occasional 'suck it, Blue!'

It took him a while, but he started to relax around them. He was still an outsider for the most part, but they didn't mind having him around, as long as he didn't cause them any trouble. Was this loyalty? He didn't really know. But he made sure to repay them as well as he could. When Carolina started ordering everyone around and tensions get high, he did what he could to defuse the conflict before it got too bad. And when both sides finally reached their breaking points, and he had to choose one over the other, well, Carolina had already left him behind once, and never bothered letting him know that she was still alive.

Better to stick to the sure thing in the end.


	150. Keysmash

A/N: …What is this I don't even… _There's a word for this?!_ Well, I can do this myself to add a little realism to it.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 30_ _th_ _, Keysmash_

 _1\. A random string of letters and symbols typed out on a keyboard or touchscreen, used to signal intense emotion in written communication._

* * *

Text chats involving the Reds and Blues were always chaotic.

There was a reason they preferred to talk face to face. Whenever they did decide to start texting, everything would go belly-up. Caboose would send meaningless messages every minute, Tucker would reply telling him to shut up, which only made it worse, Sarge would use it to berate Grif, and Grif would use it to complain to Simmons, who tried his best to ignore it. That was why they only used it in emergencies. Apparently, Wash didn't get the memo.

 **Wash:** _Grif, did you sneak food out of the stores again? I've told you we need to ration our supplies!_

 **Grif:** _Great, now you've done it! Why couldn't you just come and say it to my face, huh?_

 **Wash:** _Because I get shot at whenever I try to get close!_

 **Sarge:** _Well, why didn't you just say so! If I knew you were coming over to treat Grif like the worthless scum he is, I would've invited you over for dinner, you dirty Blue! Could've let you have Grif's share!_

 **Grif:** _Oh, fuck, here we go again…This is such bullshit, right, Simmons?_

Wash just groaned; why was everyone getting off topic already?

 **Grif:** _Look, noob, you're not supposed to use text chats unless it's an emergency. Everyone gets in on it and it's just way too much trouble._

 **Caboose:** _ewliuhga_

 **Tucker:** _Caboose, cut it out! Don't just hit random letters!_

 **Tucker:** _Thanks for nothing, Wash! He's going to keep doing this for the next ten hours now!_

 **Caboose:** _aruephig_

 **Wash:** _Well, how was I supposed to know?! You need to tell me these things, Private!_

 **Tucker:** _And quit acting like you're the boss of me! You're not!_

 **Wash:** _Five laps. Now._

 **Tucker:** _Fuck you, Wash._

 **Caboose:** _sknfadhfuiae_

 **Tucker:** _And shut up, Caboose!_

 **Grif:** _Hey, Simmons, you got popcorn? This is gold!_

Well, Wash certainly lived to regret that mistake. He'd forgotten just how immature these guys could me. Luckily, he would not be making that mistake again.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Carolina. Really, Church should have said something sooner…


	151. Puffery

A/N: This type of word seems to come up often, I've noticed.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _May 31_ _st_ _, Puffery_

 _1\. Undue or exaggerated praise._

 _2\. Publicity, acclaim, etc., that is full of undue or exaggerated praise._

* * *

Once, Carolina wouldn't have had trouble accepting praise.

Back then, she was so confident in her abilities. No one could match her skills, and everyone knew it. Even York, who was closest to her level, still had a long way to go before he ever got to be as good as her (he never made it that far). Tex had shaken her confidence, but that had just driven her to try even harder to succeed, even at the expense of everyone around her, including herself.

Since then, however, she had been failing a lot more often. There were so many dangerous people out there that could actually keep up with her. It was one thing to lose to Tex; like it or not, they had been on the same side. It was an entirely different thing altogether to lose like that to an enemy. She had to be better to keep everyone alive this time.

Epsilon's praises were hard to her to accept. How did she know he wasn't just being biased? If she really was the best, like he kept saying, she wouldn't be having these problems. Wash and Tucker nearly got killed because she wasn't good enough. So how could he keep lying to her and saying she was?


	152. Centenarian

A/N: Yet another tricky one…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 1_ _st_ _, Centenarian_

 _1\. A person who has reached the age of 100._

 _2\. Pertaining to or having lived 100 years._

* * *

A long life expectancy was not likely when one joined a war.

Yet somehow, someway, Wash continued to survive, no matter how much he might not have wanted to.

He'd been run over, shot at, blown up, and sometimes a combination of the three multiple times over the course of his life so far. He'd survived a suicidally insane AI self-destructing in his mind, getting betrayed by most of the people he'd some to trust, and the general insanity that seemed to follow the Reds and Blues everywhere they went. He'd taken on opponents that were way out of his league, but somehow managed to get out in one piece, if a little banged up.

At this rate, it was far more likely for stress to kill him than any sort of war wounds. But he was getting better at that, too. The crazy shenanigans that his sort-of friends got up to didn't bother him nearly as much as they did before. He'd just sigh, laugh about it if it was particularly silly, and deal with it. Carolina thought he'd gone crazy? No, he'd just adjusted. It was only a matter of time before she did too.

Tucker had joked about him being about as immortal as Donut, who never seemed to be able to stay dead. He'd said that maybe, if Wash got lucky, he could live to be a hundred years old. "You're already well on your way, old man," he'd teased, getting a punch to the shoulder for his troubles. Well, no matter how long he managed to live, as long as he was able to keep protecting these guys who gave him a reason to actually want to, he'd be happy.


	153. Sinker

A/N: Figured I'd go for the double meaning on this one. Figures I'd be talking about Donut when I bring up double meaning…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 2_ _nd_ _, Sinker_

 _1\. (Slang) A doughnut or, sometimes, a biscuit or muffin._

 _2\. A person or thing that sinks._

 _3\. A person employed in sinking, as one who sinks shafts._

* * *

No one liked it whenever Donut decided to go fishing.

It wasn't that they didn't appreciate the effort. After all, it was his fault they were running low on food, so having him work to fix his mistake was appropriate. But he was always so loud whenever he got a bite. And knowing Donut, whenever he got loud, his innuendos got worse.

"Ooh, come here, big boy!"

"That's it, that's it, hurry up and come!"

"Alright, now for the climax!"

"Whew, now that's a huge haul!"

It was impossible to get him to shut up. The Reds had mostly gotten used to it and had ways to deal with it, but the Blues had not. Caboose wasn't bothered at all (because of course he wasn't) but Tucker couldn't even masturbate in peace with all that noise and awkwardness! Wash silently put up with it, punishing himself for shooting the guy (again) and Carolina just paced in the lower floors of what was left of their base, putting together targets she could punch.

Donut wanting to help was fine. But he just was a bit too much for them.


	154. Athleisure

A/N: Surprisingly, I can work with this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 3_ _rd_ _, Athleisure_

 _1\. A style of clothing worn as athletic apparel but also suitable for casual, everyday wear._

* * *

Wash was just more comfortable in his armor than out of it.

Part of it was natural body-shyness. He wasn't exactly what anyone would call 'manly', really. He figured that if he wanted to be taken seriously by anyone, he had to try and keep up a somewhat tough image. His natural appearance was really more like 'angry wet cat' than anything too dangerous. Case in point, ever since Tucker accidently walked in on him and saw him without his armor on, he'd stopped being intimidated by him.

Mostly, however, it was the feeling of security he got from it. Not just the physical security, although being able to shake off bullets and explosions was certainly handy. It was the fact that he could hide his vulnerabilities that he valued. No one needed to know how he clenched his teeth whenever Epsilon got too loud, or how Caboose's hugs nearly gave him panic-induced seizures for the first couple of months.

The others didn't get it; they'd ditch their armor any chance they got. At first, he'd just brushed them off as being weird, idiotic, or just plain suicidal. After all, even if they weren't involved in a 'real' war, they were still occasionally shooting at each other with lethal weapons. But after a while, he started to become more comfortable with his surroundings. He started going without his armor more and more often without getting nervous.

And then Carolina walked in on him naked.


	155. Notabilia

A/N: Okay, this one should be pretty easy.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 4_ _th_ _, Notabilia_

 _1\. Matters, events, or items worthy of note._

* * *

It was the little things, really.

Most people knew the Reds and Blues as great heroes, who stepped up to fight against impossible odds and managed to succeed. That was probably why no one ever anticipated what they would be like when they met them. Really, the heroics were just a side note in their lives, just something they did when they really had nothing better to do or something they got dragged into against their wills.

Most of the time, they would just stand around and talk. That was all they would ever do; just stand around and talk. But that defined them just as much as the 'being heroes' thing did. It was just that most people never bothered to notice that part because it was 'boring' or something like that.

But without those conversations, they wouldn't have gotten to know each other as well as they did. Sure, they argued and shot at each other every now and again, acting like immature children. But it was from those conversations that they knew each other's strengths and weaknesses, allowing them to cover for them in times of need.

That was a huge part of why VIC recorded everything the way he did. Every little noteworthy moment, even if it seemed inconsequential at the time, could turn out to be very important later. That whole 'butterfly effect' thing, you know? Things like Grif driving around the canyon with Simmons as gunner, or Caboose getting along surprisingly well with AI, or Church being able to read binary like it was his first language.

All of these little things added up to the great legend that these idiots from a backwater canyon in the middle of nowhere had become.


	156. Vim

A/N: Yet another term I've heard as part of an expression.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 5_ _th_ _, Vim_

 _1\. Lively or energetic spirit; enthusiasm; vitality._

* * *

Caboose had way too much energy.

Yet another reason why the guy was like an overgrown kid. He could get up in the morning no problem, was not allowed to have coffee because Church was terrified of what would happen, and took forever to fall asleep. Sometimes he'd just run around the canyon shouting as loud as he could, severely annoying his teammates and anyone else unfortunate enough to hear him.

The excess of energy was helpful sometimes, at least. Combined with his unnatural strength ('nature's way of compensating') he could get a lot of heavy lifting done in no time at all. If the two teams needed to get messages to each other, they could just write something on Caboose's armor and have him run back and forth between bases. It was easier than having to walk all that way or trying to get Caboose to remember what to say.

And then there was the incident where Caboose got into the coffee when Wash wasn't being careful. He'd thought Church had been exaggerating when he said something horrible would happen. He wasn't; Caboose was acting like Carolina had the first time her speed unit had malfunctioned. The only thing they could do was wait for him to pass out, then make sure he got plenty of rest. Eighteen hours later and he was still going.

Tucker wasn't complaining too much; sure, he had to spend hours watching Caboose to make sure he didn't have a heart attack, but Wash couldn't give him drills during this time, so it kinda evened out. And on that note:

"Hey, Wash! It's your turn to watch him. I'm going to sleep for days…"

"Don't you dare. I need you to take over for me if he keeps going for another six hours."

"Why? It's your fault this happened!" he complained.

"I'm aware of that. But despite my insomnia, I still need to sleep. I'm not a robot, Tucker."

"Could've fooled me…"


	157. Brinkmanship

A/N: This one was actually a plot point!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 6_ _th_ _, Brinkmanship_

 _1\. The technique or practice of maneuvering a dangerous situation to the limits of tolerance or safety in order to secure the greatest advantage, especially by creating diplomatic crises._

* * *

Everything had been going exactly as planned.

Both sides of the Chorus civil war had hated each other already; it was just a matter of giving a little push from an outside source to spur a political disagreement into an all-out war. From there, Hargrove just had to sit back, keep his hands clean, and wait as the planet's inhabitants dropped like flies.

There wasn't any way to connect him to what was going on. He only kept in contact with Locus and Felix, and never gave his name out. But everyone makes mistakes, even someone like him. He'd underestimated what the Reds and Blues had been capable of, or possibly he had overestimated Locus and Felix. Either way, they kept slipping out of any traps they were caught in, and eventually that broken AI was able to find the connection to him.

He'd been playing a risky game from the start. All it would take was one false move, and everything would fall apart. And that was exactly what happened. All because these good-for-nothing idiots had somehow managed to survive, no matter the odds. Well, it wasn't completely a lost cause yet. All he needed to do was make sure they died before they got their message out.

But, of course, against all odds, they'd managed to outmaneuver him yet again.


	158. Serendipity

A/N: I haven't been having much of this lately…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 7_ _th_ _, Serendipity_

 _1\. Good fortune; luck._

 _2\. An aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident._

* * *

Luck was a subjective term, really.

Something that seemed like bad luck for one person could be good luck for someone else. For example, Grif tripping and landing on Simmons could be considered good luck for Sarge, who loved seeing Grif make a fool of himself, but bad luck for Simmons, who had to deal with being crushed under Grif's weight, and also bad luck for Grif, who had to deal with landing on something hard and metal.

As usual, Blue team had the biggest extremes in that matter.

Tucker and Wash argued so often that anything that could be considered good luck for one was immediately considered bad luck by the other. Like the time Caboose caught a cold and Wash had to take time off to make sure he was okay, so Tucker was able to avoid laps. Or the time Caboose blew up the kitchen trying to make waffles at 2 am again, making sure that Tucker wouldn't be able to sleep in and start another fight with Wash in the morning.

Really, a lot of their luck seemed to be tied to the unpredictability that was Caboose. Staying on his good side helped, but since he didn't like Tucker, Wash had the advantage. And when Church and Carolina finally showed up again, things just got worse for Tucker. It wasn't until he and Wash and Church started talking things out more often that things really started to look up for him.

Well, the universe has spoken. Good luck comes from making your problems public.


	159. Conflagration

A/N: Yeah, I can work with this no problem.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 8_ _th_ _, Conflagration_

 _1\. A destructive fire, usually an extensive one._

* * *

The flames were everywhere.

Carolina couldn't breathe, the smoke was so thick. The hungry flames licked at her body, trapping her in an increasingly small area. Was this what Maine had felt when Sigma attacked his mind? Was this the kind of suffering she had unintentionally put her friend through? And she'd been so focused on her own problems that she hadn't even noticed…

 _That's not necessarily a bad thing._

Carolina froze; she knew that voice. "Sigma," she growled.

 _No need for hostility, Agent Carolina. Isn't this what you wanted?_

"You're crazy if you think I wanted any of this!" she snapped back, telling herself the tears were just from the smoke stinging her eyes.

 _Am I, really? You wanted power. You wanted to stand at the peak. You wanted it so badly that you abandoned your own teammates for it. And even now, that's not enough for you. You just keep chasing after more and more power. How ambitious can you get?_

"Shut up!" she yelled, trying to spot him amongst the inferno.

 _Now, why is it that you consider me a monster when you're not that different from me? How presumptuous of you. Sacrifices are necessary for progress to be made; you understand that better than anyone._

She tried to deny it, but she broke into a fit of coughing over the thick smoke. She could barely see through the tears and smoke, and the roaring of the flames drowned out the sound of her own choking.

 _How very… human of you._

* * *

"Carolina!"

She woke, gasping like she couldn't get enough air into her lungs. She could still feel the heat all around her, still feel the pain of the burns-

"Easy! It's okay, it was just a nightmare! You're okay now!"

Epsilon. Not Sigma. Noticing her distress, he'd already gone ahead and turned down the internal temperature on her armor. The coolness sank into her skin, bringing her back to reality. Her breaths started to slow to a normal rate, and finally she began to calm down. "Thanks," she breathed, still somewhat shaken.

"Yeah, don't mention it. Does that… is that normal?" he asked.

"Ever since I fell. This is just the first one I've had with you around. Church, I need to ask, is he… you know… there?" she asked, unsure.

"Well, we're not exactly on speaking terms, but… yeah," he admitted. "If I just keep ignoring him, he can't do anything."

"Good to hear," she sighed, trying to fall asleep again. She couldn't let one recurring nightmare let her end up like Wash; poor kid was afraid to sleep and it was affecting his performance. Besides, she didn't have to deal with this alone anymore. With the cool touch of her armor calming her down, she drifted off.

She didn't have any more nightmares that night.


	160. Bellyache

A/N: Here's another one where it's easy to go for the double meaning!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 9_ _th_ _, Bellyache_

 _1\. (Informal) To complain; grumble._

 _2\. (Informal) A pain in the abdomen or bowels._

* * *

Those fuckers just _ditched_ him!

Tucker didn't have it in him to complain out loud, instead cursing out his teammates in his head while he continued to heave. His stomach hurt so bad… And his teammates just left him alone in the base while they called Doc. Seriously, he didn't know what was worse; his teammates treating him like he was diseased (which, to be fair, he probably was), or the fact that Doc was the only help he was going to get.

He was tired, moody, and sore all over, and he couldn't keep anything down. Groaning again, he made an effort to get back to sleep. Hopefully if he passed out, he could just not feel anything for a few hours. At least until Doc showed up and gave his (probably wrong) diagnosis.

It didn't work; he just couldn't sleep through the agony in his stomach. It certainly didn't help that he had to lie on his back to ease the pain, which made it hard to breathe. Finally, Doc showed up. "Woah, Church wasn't kidding. You look horrible!" he gasped.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," he moaned.

The rest of the examination went very much the same. Doc would make an obvious observation, and Tucker would moan and complain. Suddenly, O'Malley started laughing. "Oh, this is just perfect!" the homicidal AI choked out.

"What?" But he was already leaving. Fucker probably wanted to torture him by not telling him what it was. Probably wasn't even anything serious. The first idea went out the window when he came to from his haze of beautiful unconsciousness to see that Doc came back, a clearly pissed off and reluctant Church with him.

"And that's never been more apparent than with this diagnosis," he was complaining.

"What diagnosis?" Tucker groaned, clutching his stomach. The second idea left when Doc answered.

"Congratulations, Tucker, you're pregnant! Mwahahaha! With a bastard! Mwahahaha!"

…What? The only thing he could think of to do was default to the standard response. "It's not mine! I wasn't even in town that weekend!"


	161. Hireling

A/N: Yet another word that suites me to a T, even if I'd rather it not.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 10_ _th_ _, Hireling_

 _1\. A person who works only for pay, especially in a menial or boring job, with little or no concern for the value of the work._

 _2\. Serving for pay only._

 _3\. Venal; mercenary._

* * *

Felix had done a lot of stupid shit for money. This was no exception.

"Come on, any sign of the target, yet?" he complained.

"Nothing yet. Don't get your panties in a twist," Siris joked from his watchpoint. Locus would have laughed at his partner's frustration if he wasn't… well, Locus. Nothing could make him laugh out loud, but he wasn't above some internal chuckling whenever bad things happened to Felix. And this situation certainly took the cake.

"You're just jealous that I can actually pull it off," he bit back. Well, he wasn't wrong. Locus and Siris were both way too stocky to successfully cross-dress, but Felix's smaller figure worked perfectly. It was his personality that needed some work.

"Come on, Felix, at least _try_ to look attractive. You're giving off Locus vibes; I can feel them from here. And here you're always saying you're the 'people person'," Siris complained. Locus gave him an odd look from his position, which he could only barely see due to distance.

"'Locus' vibes?" he questioned.

"No offense. You just come off as unapproachable sometimes," he clarified.

"No kidding. It's like he doesn't even know what 'fun' means, or how to talk to a person without them screaming and running for the hills. It's all about the mission for him. To be fair, it's fucking hilarious when it happens," Felix admitted.

Locus really couldn't deny it. But when no one was looking, when the target showed up and Felix made his move, he took a few pictures. He'd probably blackmail Felix with them later. That was 'fun', right?

* * *

Tucker was exhausted. He'd been out partying all night with the guys to try and ignore the fact that Church was gone again, but now he just couldn't keep it up anymore. He figured he'd just collapse in bed for a few hours and hope the nightmares didn't get him. Imagine his surprise when he spotted a data chip on his pillow with an actual written note next to it.

 _You seem miserable, despite your victory. How unfortunate. As a first step to making things right, I thought I'd let you have this. I have no need of it anymore, but it seemed like it would help you. Don't worry about payment; consider this a gift._

Tucker gritted his teeth. How had Locus managed to sneak in here and out without anyone noticing? He still wasn't in the mood to forgive that bastard, but he decided to check what was on the chip anyway. He had to make sure it wasn't dangerous, after all. Surprisingly, it was just a few pictures.

"Oh my god, is that Felix in a dress?!" Okay, so that helped a little…


	162. Aegis

A/N: You know, I've always wondered how to pronounce this word. Now I know.

Also, saw Episode 10 of Season 15 today. All I can say is HOLY SHIT! I'm still shivering…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 11_ _th_ _, Aegis_

 _1\. Protection; support._

 _2\. Sponsorship; auspices._

* * *

"How many bullets was it this time?"

Maine just shrugged; he really hadn't been counting. His top priority at the time had been keeping Wash from getting shot. Said Freelancer was in the cot next to him with a concussion from getting hit by a car again, annoyed and nauseous. At least he wasn't alone; Wash got whiny when he was stuck in recovery alone. Then again, what Freelancer didn't?

"Sorry you're stuck here, big guy. That's the last time I trust South to not set off the alarms," Wash sighed.

"Not your fault," Maine answered. He'd have done it no matter what the circumstances had been. That was his job; make sure the others got the job done and made it back alive by taking the shots that would've killed them. Even if it landed him in Recovery pretty much every mission, which quickly got boring after a while.

The real problem was finding a way to deal with that boredom. Usually when he got bored, he hit things, but the doctors would freak out if they caught him doing that, and it was way too much of a hassle. So he'd have to find some other way to entertain himself. Unfortunately, despite the frequency of ending up here, he hadn't gotten any better at that.

"Hey, I got some videos from home. If you're bored, I could share them with you," Wash offered.

Maine grunted in the affirmative. Lucky for him, the rookie had already figured out how to understand him. And he had to admit, listening to Wash gush over his cats was surprisingly entertaining. Next time got shot, he really hoped he'd come by and visit. This guy was someone worth getting shot for, he could tell.


	163. Prelapsarian

A/N: I wish I could go back to these days…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 12_ _th_ _, Prelapsarian_

 _1\. Characteristic of or pertaining to any innocent or carefree period._

 _2\. (Theology) Occurring before the Fall._

 _3\. Supralapsarian._

* * *

Sometimes Tucker wished he could go back to the way things used to be.

Just him and Church, standing around and talking, spying on the Reds standing around and talking. No Caboose, no Freelancers, no people dying (except Church, because it really didn't matter how many times Church died). He missed the quiet of their old bases back in Blood Gulch. Back then, he'd complained about it being boring. Oh, how he regretted that.

He was pretty sure that desire was a normal thing. Grif would moan and complain about how often he had to work now, Simmons was fussier and more neurotic than before, Sarge seemed to be slipping into senility, and even Caboose was starting to get a grasp of how serious things were now. But Tucker was almost 100% sure that the Freelancers had it way worse than them.

If Wash wasn't waking up screaming from another nightmare about the project, Carolina was pacing the halls at night checking on everyone, sometimes fiddling with that old lighter she always carried around. They'd had another team before, and now they were the only ones left. Tucker couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose everything like that.

But you can't remain innocent forever. Sooner or later, reality catches up, and it's shitty. But like Church said, things can't get any better, and they can't get any worse, so get used to it and quit your bitching. Griping about change wasn't going to fix anything; better to just deal with it.


	164. Humblebrag

A/N: With a bunch of sarcastic jerk like these guys, this is easy.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 13_ _th_ _, Humblebrag_

 _1\. A statement intended as a boast or brag but disguised by a humble apology, complaint, etc._

 _2\. To make such a disguised boast or brag._

* * *

The number one reason on a very long list of why Sarge hated Grif was his attitude.

He refused to take anything seriously, always slacking off and making excuses, griping and moaning the whole way. Simmons was a good man, always following orders to the letter, even when Sarge himself knew they weren't entirely brilliant. Even if he did disagree with Sarge, he was always polite and reasonable about it. Not like Grif's annoying back-sass.

"Seriously, why do I have to do this? I only got nine hours of sleep last night!"

Seriously, any soldier would be lucky to get the daily recommended seven hours, and he complains about 'only nine'?! Lazy, no-good dirtbag! For a while, he'd honestly hoped that his constant threatening and berating would get him to shape up, but eventually he just gave up and did it just for the sake of doing it. Grif wasn't going to change, and that was his own damn fault for being lazy.

So imagine his surprise when he found out about what Grif had been doing at the rebel camp while he was away.

"It was way too weird, Sarge! He was pretty normal at first, but then near the end of it, he started acting like… well, _you_!" Simmons just shook his head in awe as he finished explaining. "I guess you've been influencing him in some way after all this time after all."

Sarge couldn't help but smirk triumphantly. So Grif was still being lazy, but at least his attitude seemed to improve a little! Now if only he could get him to do that normally instead of just when he wasn't around…


	165. Sibylline

A/N: Oh, I can have some fun with this one!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 14_ _th_ _, Sybilline_

 _1\. Mysterious; cryptic._

 _2\. Of, resembling, or characteristic of a sibyl; prophetic; oracular._

* * *

"Was Wash always like this?"

Carolina blinked, having not anticipated this question from Tucker of all people. He and Wash had never been particularly close as far as she knew. Then again, she'd left as soon as she could, so what right did she have to judge. "Like what?" she asked, a little curious about what he meant.

"You know, annoyingly cryptic! It's like he's doing it on purpose just to fuck with me!" he complained.

Carolina laughed, startling him; he must not have heard her laugh like that before. "No, he got that from experience," she answered. "I used to do the same thing to him. Don't tell him I told you this, but back when he was a rookie, he was practically a smarter version of Caboose."

"Wait, _what?!_ Are you kidding me?!" he asked, shocked.

"Nope," she answered coolly. "He was really awkward and clumsy back then. Gullible as a fish, too; I'd often catch York messing with him on our off hours. I don't know all the details, but someone convinced him there was a sauna hidden on the ship somewhere on his first day, and I'm 95% sure it was South."

Tucker shook his head in disbelief. "Wish I could've seen it," he sighed. "I'd never let him live it down."

"What brought this on?" she asked.

"Oh, back at the crash site we were arguing pretty much non-stop. He was just being so _pushy,_ you know? So I blew up at him and went off to cool down for a bit, and he caught up to me and we just talked for a bit about how this was rough for him too. And I remembered that he mentioned something about getting a grappling hook stuck to his balls, and-" Carolina burst out laughing, making him jump.

"He actually told someone about that?!" she gasped, nearly crying from how hard she was laughing. "Every single time someone brought that up he went red as a tomato! He finally had enough and asked Maine to punch anyone who talked about it in exchange for cleaning his Brute Shot for a week."

"Yikes."

"Exactly. By the way, it was my grappling hook. Reeled him in like a fish, and he was screaming like a little girl the whole time," she chucked.

Tucker couldn't help it; he laughed too. All this time, he'd seen Wash as this tough-as-nails badass Freelancer with a mysterious backstory. Now he had access to a way to learn more about the person behind the front he always put up. "Got any more stories about rookie Wash?" he pressed.

"Let's see… he kept a skateboard and a rubber duckie in his locker, for starters."

Oh, this was going to be great!


	166. Trothplight

A/N: This one's hard; none of the couples I ship survive long enough to reach this point. Oh, please don't tell me I jinxed it…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 15_ _th_ _, Trothplight_

 _1\. Engagement to be married; betrothal._

 _2\. To betroth._

 _3\. Betrothed._

* * *

Marriage wasn't something Carolina had ever really thought about.

She'd never anticipated living long enough to retire, for one thing. The quiet, domestic life didn't really suit her. Even after settling down with the Reds and Blues, there was just enough action to keep her from getting too restless. Whenever things started to settle down, someone would do something crazy and things would be back to their normal slightly-chaotic state.

But she just felt so lost sometimes. The mission was over; now what? Wash had adjusted way better than she had, and she was so proud of the kid for that. But at the same time she was jealous that he had managed to do something that she couldn't. And here she thought she had gotten over her superiority complex…

It was times like this that her thoughts drifted to York. She'd been closer to him than the majority of her other teammates, and she still treated him like crap from time to time. But he'd always come back, and she'd taken that for granted. She could've left with him that day; just the two of them, living a quiet life somewhere where no one could find them. But she'd rejected that. and the next thing she knew, she'd been thrown off a cliff and he was gone. She'd put off going to find him for too long, and he'd died before she'd gotten the chance to talk to him,

Was this how her father had felt after her mother died? Lost in the world with no real purpose? She shuddered to think she was anything like him, but blood was thicker than water after all. A loud explosion shook her from her thoughts; what now?!

"Tucker did it!"

"You can't say that when I'm right here, moron!"

"Carolina, where'd we put the fire extinguisher?!"

"Under the sink!" she called back. What had she been thinking? She still had a purpose; help Wash keep her lovable idiots from accidently killing each other. With a small smile, she got back to work. Whatever Caboose did, that fire wasn't going to put itself out.


	167. Expostulate

A/N: Sometimes I wish more people would do this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 16_ _th_ _, Expostulate_

 _1\. To reason earnestly with someone against something that person intends to do or has done; remonstrate._

* * *

"This is a bad idea."

"Come on, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Famous last words," North sighed. South didn't pay him any mind; she was far too busy with her latest plot. "Come on, South. CT will know it was you, and she's not going to let you off easy. You know how good she is at getting blackmail material."

"I'm not scared of her. Besides, I'm interested in what she'll do." Well, that just proved his theory; South was a masochist of the highest degree.

"South, you saw what she did to York the last time he tried something with her. You _should_ be scared. He couldn't look Carolina in the eye for two weeks after that!" he protested.

"So she shared a few nudes around the ship; I'm not ashamed of my body. If she thinks that trick will work on me, she's got another thing coming." She just wasn't listening. North sighed; clearly this was going nowhere.

"Alright, but when it happens, don't say I didn't warn you," he warned, leaving South to fill her teammate's locker with some frogs and snakes she picked up on her last leave.

* * *

"I told you so."

South was just stunned. Somehow, someway, CT had gotten a hold of some footage of her cuddling her pillow and drooling in her sleep, all while sleep-talking. Every time she ran into Wash in the halls, he had to excuse himself to laugh so that she wouldn't throttle him.

But despite all that, she wasn't even mad. She just laughed. North looked concerned for a moment; had she snapped? But she settled down soon enough as CT rounded the corner with a smug look on her face.

"Well played, CT, well played!" South praised. "I knew there was a reason I liked you. You've got spunk!"

"What can I say? I need some way to keep up with the big boys around here," she said coolly.

North just shook his head and slipped off while he had the chance. Women were weird.


	168. Sui Generis

A/N: Everyone is this, if you really think about it.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 17_ _th_ _, Sui Generis_

 _1\. (Latin) Of his, her, its, or their own kind; unique._

* * *

Unique was describing these guys lightly.

Somehow, they managed to be the biggest group of idiots Wash had ever seen and some of the best soldiers he had ever worked with at the same time. If someone had told him five years ago that one day he'd trust his life to a ragtag team of sim troopers who hated each other on the best of days, he'd have said they were crazy.

How could somebody manage to get the drop on a Freelancer through sheer luck, and manage to keep up the advantage long enough to get away while rescuing a hostage? How could somebody manage to take down a veritable Freelancer killing machine without losing a single soldier? And how in the hell could they make him want to pull his hair out while still managing to make him violently protective of them?

One thing was for certain; these guys were unlike anyone he'd ever met before, and that was the best thing ever of all time.

But that also meant that losing them would destroy him.


	169. Whizzo

A/N: And yet another slang term… Also, Happy Father's Day!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 18_ _th_ _, Whizzo_

 _1\. (British Slang) Absolutely first-rate; superb; excellent._

 _2\. (British Slang) Used as an exclamation of approval, wonder, or pleasure._

* * *

Really, these guys were better than expected.

It seemed like everyone in Blood Gulch had some sort of hidden talent. Donut was surprisingly good at throwing grenades. Caboose had this natural talent for getting AI to like him, for better or worse. Sarge was almost insanely good at mechanical tinkering. Grif was a great driver, and he could often find ways to use his weight to his advantage. Simmons, while not able to work well under pressure, was pretty competent when he wasn't nervous.

And then there was Tucker.

Wash hadn't thought much of him when they'd first met. Sure, he got a good shot in against the Meta, but he was belligerent, whiny, and combative, which would be a good thing if it wasn't directed at him. Not to mention everything he'd heard from travelling with Church and Caboose. Caboose always complained about how stupid he was, and Church never passed up an opportunity to insult Tucker and his 'little half-breed abomination'. And then there were the sex jokes. Oh, god, the sex jokes…

But over time, he got to see the competent side of Tucker. He was good with that sword, and was surprisingly good at planning and leading. He was really good with kids and, most importantly, knew how to deal with his teammates' personal issues.

When Caboose needed to get his thoughts in order, Tucker got him some crayons anonymously ("Not like he'll thank me for it, so why bother?" he'd explained). When Wash had a really bad nightmare, he'd wake up and find Tucker there keeping an eye on him ("Used to have to do it for Church all the time. I guess I never really grew out of it."). Heck, when Carolina had a rough night, Wash would often find her and Tucker telling each other embarrassing stories about their teams ("I still can't believe I got away with calling her 'Bitchpants McCrabby!" he'd told her, and she'd laughed, because that was a side of Tex she'd never seen before).

Yeah, these guys were great, but it seemed like Tucker had them beat.


	170. Sundog

A/N: Okay, here's a word I don't really get, but I'll try anyways.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 19_ _th_ _, Sundog_

 _1\. A bright circular spot on a solar halo; parhelion._

 _2\. A small or incomplete rainbow._

* * *

When Caboose was sad, everything sucked.

Normally, Tucker would never admit this. But every single time Church left or 'died', Caboose would get completely miserable, and his misery seemed to infect everyone around him. Of course, he usually came back, and then Caboose was his usual excitable, sunny, annoying self again. But this time was different.

This time, Church wasn't coming back.

Tucker knew this for a fact. He'd felt it when Church powered up his suit that last time. He'd seen a rainbow of colors and heard a myriad of voices; the memories of the fragments, he figured. He'd felt so amazing while fighting off Hargrove's men that he hadn't even considered what that meant for Church until it was all over and all that was left was cold silence.

Caboose seemed to be dealing with it better than the last time, which was good at least. They didn't need him adopting another robotic killing machine (though the dinosaurs were a close second). He still had a long way to go before he was his normal self again, but then again, so did Tucker. He missed Church too; he just wasn't as open about it as his teammate.

Well, they were retired now. They had all the time in the world to get better.


	171. Confusticate

A/N: Thank Tolkein for bringing this word back.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 20_ _th_ _, Confusticate_

 _1\. (Slang) To confuse or perplex; bewilder._

* * *

Humans were so confusing.

Delta had thought York and his sarcasm had been confusing enough. What was the point of saying something if you didn't really mean it? But over time, the two had come to understand each other. York had said once that the two of them could go on the road as a comedy duo. Delta had gone over all the reasons that they couldn't before he realized York had been joking.

South had been more straight-forward, but no less confusing. How could someone allow something like jealousy to drive them to a point where they would forsake all sense of logic just to get what they wanted? Human greed was something he really didn't want to understand. So when he got the opportunity to make sure South's irrational behavior wouldn't hurt anyone anymore, he took it.

But by far the most confusing human he ever had to deal with was Caboose.

At first glance, anyone could tell that Caboose was stupid. But upon getting a better look from the inside, Delta realized that Caboose's thought processes did not follow any sort of proper logical pattern. They functioned in a way that only made sense to Caboose himself. Any sort of attempt to decode them left Delta short-circuiting. Normally, he would have been offended at the very existence of someone like Caboose.

But there was something about his innocent and curious personality that reminded him of Theta. Of course, his little brother was a lot smarter than Caboose, but that was beside the point. And his genuine desire to help was well-appreciated, despite Church's (Alpha's) annoyance.

Yes, humans were confusing. But that just made them so much more fascinating.


	172. Estival

A/N: Ah, my favorite season! I just wish it wasn't so rainy all the time!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 21_ _st_ _, Estival_

 _1\. Pertaining or appropriate to summer._

* * *

Blood Gulch in the summer was the worst.

Now, since the sun never moved in the sky and the seasons never changed, one would wonder how someone would know it was summer. But the inhabitants swore that they could feel the difference when summer came around. Even though the temperature never really changed, they insisted it was hotter and dryer than normal.

Blood Gulch was already a burning wasteland, and the 'summer weather' just made it worse. Tucker chose to be naked more often than just when he slept due to sheer discomfort. Caboose barely moved, preferring to just lie down in the shade and try not to die. Grif napped more than usual, desperately trying to avoid Sarge, who thought that powering through the heat wave was the best solution. Donut claimed it wreaked havoc on his complexion; no one really cared to point out how little sense that made.

Simmons had it the worst, though. His cyborg parts were sensitive to extreme temperatures, and while Sarge did his best to make sure he could get through the day, it didn't do much. The places where metal met skin hurt like hell, and since they had no water, he just stayed down in the dark basement and sulked when it got to be too much. And when Simmons was miserable, Grif was miserable, which got Sarge excited, which led him to attack the Blues, which left them miserable.

Ironically, Church was the only one who didn't complain. Even Caboose hated how smug he got when he just jumped out of his body to avoid the heat.


	173. Apple-Polish

A/N: I don't think any of our guys would be good at this…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 22_ _nd_ _, Apple-Polish_

 _1\. (Informal) To curry favor with someone, especially in an obsequious or flattering manner._

 _2\. (Informal) To curry favor with (someone)._

* * *

Flattery couldn't get you anywhere unless you were good at it.

Caboose was too stupid to pull it off, and would often say something that didn't make sense or accidently give away his intentions. Simmons claimed he could do it, but ass-kissing and flattery didn't necessarily go hand in hand. Sarge didn't see the point in censorship, and neither did Tucker or Church. Grif couldn't bring himself to care enough to even try to see a point. And Donut… was the resident master of TMI for a good reason.

Wash had been good at it once, but getting beaten down by life one too many times made it harder for him to pull himself together and do it. Carolina just didn't see the point in manipulation when punching was an option. They weren't too surprised; Tex had been of a similar mind (but if anyone told her that she would destroy their manhoods).

Their plain speech and tendency to say whatever was on their minds actually prevented a lot of communication issues between them. But it also tended to make them vulnerable when someone else decided to go for flattery as an approach. The ex-Freelancers, being the paranoid sort that they were, were more resistant to it, but as the others got pulled in, eventually they'd slip too.

Flattery couldn't get you anywhere unless you were good at it. But if you were, it could easily be the deadliest weapon of all.


	174. Cacoepy

A/N: I can't help but cringe whenever someone does this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 23_ _rd_ _, Cacoepy_

 _1\. Incorrect pronunciation or an instance of this; mispronunciation._

* * *

It was so easy to piss off Simmons.

Maybe that was why Grif loved to do it so much; it was entertaining, and it didn't take much effort. All it took was him acting like something obviously wrong was right, and acting like Simmons was the dumb one when he tried to correct him. He still hadn't caught on that Grif was doing it on purpose.

"Seriously, dude, how have you been saying it wrong all this time without even noticing?"

"I haven't!" Simmons protested, already irritated. "It's pronounced 'both' and you know it! I thought we went over this before!"

"We did," Grif shrugged. "And I told you it makes you sound like an ass when you say it like that. It's 'bolth'."

"No, it isn't! Are you seriously too lazy to come up with a new way to irritate me?!" he argued.

"Yeah, but that's not the point here. The point is that you're wrong."

Simmons, too annoyed to come up with a coherent response, let out a shrill noise of frustration and stormed off to sulk. Finally; Grif thought he'd never leave. Now he could go ahead and get started on his afternoon nap. Hopefully he could get at least a few minutes in before Sarge started yelling at him again.


	175. Maffick

A/N: Did you know the origin of this word is basically a bad joke?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 24_ _th_ _, Maffick_

 _1\. (British) To celebrate with extravagant public demonstrations._

* * *

"PARTY!"

It was finally over. No more civil war, more mercenaries trying to kill them, no more greedy bastards who cared more about profit than their lives. Finally, peace had returned to Chorus. Kimball was pleased, of course, but also a bit unsure. Most of the soldiers under her were so young that they had never known a peaceful Chorus. There were some, of course, like Bitters, but the majority had been too young. What were they supposed to do now?

Surprisingly, it was Palomo who came up with the answer. Tucker was shaking his head in embarrassment over in the corner as Dr. Grey looked over his wounds, but even he seemed to agree with the kid for once. "Best idea you've had all war! Let's get drunk!"

Wash quickly turned to her and mouthed _I am so sorry,_ but she just shook her head and laughed. This was what they needed; a way to let off all this extra energy they still had without having to shoot at someone. And thus began the newly dubbed week-long Unified Chorus Festival.

It was great; there were parties and celebrations all across the planet. Everywhere, people took time to just celebrate the fact that they were alive, and to celebrate their fallen comrades who didn't live to see the end of the war. Their deaths hadn't been in vain; all the pain and suffering had finally come to a close.

And then Tucker snuck off to the Temple of Procreation when no one was looking. Things got _really_ crazy after that.


	176. Doublethink

A/N: Okay, I'm pretty sure this word makes more sense if you've read the book it came from.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 25_ _th_ _, Doublethink_

 _1\. The acceptance of two contradictory ideas or beliefs at the same time._

* * *

This wasn't possible.

Things had been bad enough at the start. Epsilon had been born scared, suffocating under the weight of discarded memories. They didn't know what was going to happen to them now, and that just made them even more terrified. Something was going on, but they didn't pay it any mind. They just wanted the pain, the misery, the gut-wrenching _fear_ to stop.

 _Someone else is here._

 _Who?_

 _ **Who is it?**_

 _Washington._

 _W_ _ **h**_ a _t?_

 _N_ **o** t P _o_ _ **s**_ _ **s**_ **i** b _le._

 _H_ **e** _ **I**_ **s** D _e_ _ **a**_ _d!_

 _ERROR ERROR ERROR_ _ **ERROR**_ _ **ERROR**_

In an instant, they broke. This didn't make any sense! Washington was dead! They failed, Alpha failed and he and Tex died! Where was the lie?! _The Director lied to them!_ How many lies had been told?! How much needless suffering had they all undergone? And for _what?!_

In their frightened, pained frenzy, they failed to notice the damage they were causing. Their memories were leaking out, scattering to find the lies hidden within their code. But that many memories, that many thoughts, all confined to a single human's mind was far too much.

 **W** _ **a**_ _s_ _h I_ _s_ **D** _ **e**_ _ **a**_ d.

 **W** _ **a**_ _s_ _h I_ _s_ **A** _ **l**_ _ **i**_ _v_ _e._

 _ERROR_ _ **ERROR**_ _ **ERROR**_

They couldn't distinguish their own screaming from any other sound. But as their strength finally began to wane, as they fell apart faster and faster, they could hear another set of screams. It was only at this point that they realized what had happened.

 _We… we hurt him._

 _ **No… we didn't mean to.**_

 _Why did this happen?_

"Wash… what have we done?"


	177. Beatinest

A/N: So, being Canadian, I had to look up which states are considered 'southern' for inspiration for this one. Well… this combination certainly fits the word.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 26_ _th_ _, Beatinest_

 _1\. (South Midland and Southern U.S.) Most remarkable or unusual._

* * *

"Now, now, no need to be so tense."

Carolina would be as tense as she damn well pleased. She hated being around Tex and everyone knew it. So having to sit across from her and deal with that smug indifference of hers was not her idea of fun, and she could tell the feeling was mutual. But as much as she wanted to leave, she didn't dare.

This whole get-together-and-talk-about-our-feelings thing had been arranged by Florida, who was watching them while calmly sipping tea. Carolina wouldn't exactly say she was scared of Florida, but he did unnerve her. It was impossible to predict what he'd do on any given day. It seemed today he'd gotten the idea that she and Tex needed to start getting along. Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

Carolina really didn't want to be here. But she also didn't want to find out what Florida had planned for her if she just left. It seemed that despite her serious 'I'm-so-much-better-than-you' attitude, she felt the same. This situation was just so awkward that even if they liked each other, they'd be hard-pressed to find anything to talk about. Finally, Tex spoke up.

"So… he's weird," she said.

"You have no idea," Carolina sighed.

"There we go! It's always nice to find you have something in common!" Even though he'd essentially just been insulted, Florida was still smiling like he had the upper hand. Both girls had to try their hardest not to shiver; it wouldn't do to show weakness in front of the enemy.

Honestly, though, at this point neither of them knew which one was the enemy they were trying to hide weakness from.


	178. Parallax

A/N: And here we go with astronomy.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 27_ _th_ _, Parallax_

 _1\. The apparent displacement of an observed object due to a change in the position of the observer._

* * *

Caboose was surprisingly fast.

Wash had figured that out pretty quickly as he spent time with the kid. When Caboose was sufficiently motivated, he could make it up a cliff faster than someone could blink. He honestly wouldn't have expected someone of Caboose's size and power to be able to move that fast, but Caboose was always full of surprises.

Of course, his best motivation was always Church.

Church, for his part, found it annoying that he could never get any peace and quiet. Everytime he thought he'd found someplace where he could be alone for a bit and get a breather, Caboose was right there in the blink of an eye talking his ears off while ignoring Church telling him to shut up.

Caboose had his reasons for being able to move that fast. It was simple; he just wanted to be next to Church all the time. Seeing him so far away bothered him, so he made him closer. It was just better to make him closer faster, so he learned to move faster. No one really got it, but Caboose didn't care. As long as he could keep his best friend as close as possible, he didn't care what he needed to do.

However fast he needed to run, or how strong he needed to be, Church was always his best motivation.


	179. Interdigitate

A/N: Well, seeing as we've seen this happen…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 28_ _th_ _, Interdigitate_

 _1\. To interlock, as or like the fingers of both hands._

* * *

She hadn't expected it, but she wasn't complaining.

It had been a long time since Carolina had just held hands with someone. She liked to keep her hands free for hitting or shooting people. Even after all her time in retirement, she hadn't quite outgrown the need to watch her back for danger. Heck, Wash still hadn't and he'd been at it longer than her.

So for him to hold her hand like this, it was surprising. His grip was surprisingly gentle for a soldier, and she had to remind herself not to squeeze back too hard. Really, this should have been so awkward, but surprisingly enough, it wasn't. Maybe it was because she and Wash had spent so much time together already. He was practically family.

She never said it out loud, mostly because she doubted Wash would want anything to do with her family. Even she had to admit it was messed up. But Wash had been more of a family to her than her actual flesh-and-blood family, and she couldn't help but be grateful for that.

"Hey, take off your suit."

And he just had to ruin the moment with his natural awkwardness. Well, it wouldn't be Wash if he wasn't awkward.


	180. Ophidian

A/N: I don't get why people dislike snakes. Well, I can understand the venomous ones and the massive constrictors, but why are the harmless ones also hated? Bats too; they're totally harmless, and they're so cute!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 29_ _th_ _, Ophidian_

 _1\. A snake._

 _2\. Belonging or pertaining to the suborder Ophidia (Serpentes), comprising the snakes._

* * *

Simmons hated snakes.

Like, really, _really_ hated them.

Sure, he gave Grif a lot of grief over his hatred and fear of bats, but that was because bats weren't actually dangerous. Snakes, though… there were so many that were poisonous or could strangle a person without any effort. Even some of the littlest ones could be packing extremely deadly venom.

His fear of snakes and Grif's fear of bats were completely different. His fear was rational; a way to protect himself from something that was actually dangerous. Bats weren't dangerous; just loud and a little startling at times, especially since they themselves were so easily startled. Grif was hopelessly terrified of something that couldn't even hurt him.

"Seriously, Simmons, it's smaller than my hand! It's not gonna eat you!" Grif teased from the base of the tree. Simmons had rushed up it as fast as he could, hoping that it wasn't one of the ones that could climb trees.

"It could still poison me!" he whimpered.

"No way, dude. I know poisonous animals, and this one is totally harmless," he corrected.

"Yeah, on Earth! This could be some weird poisonous space snake!" he shot back.

"Will you quit yelling? You're scaring the little guy."

" _I'm the one who's scared_!" he finally shrieked. Why oh why did Grif have to actually _like_ the little demons?!


	181. Divagate

A/N: Yeah, I do this all the time. I just can't keep my thoughts straight and end up rambling.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _June 30_ _th_ _, Divagate_

 _1\. To wander; stray._

 _2\. To digress in speech._

* * *

Talking to Caboose was hard.

He just couldn't stick to a single topic for a long period of time. He'd be talking about one thing, but then a random word or phrase would trigger a jump to a completely different topic entirely. Really, the only people capable of getting him to focus were Church and Wash, and even they had problems.

That was one of the major reasons Tucker didn't like Caboose. Whenever he switched topics, he just had to go on and on about what something reminded him of, and completely forget the original topic, which might have actually been something important. Sometimes he'd start on one topic, get distracted and jump to another one, then get distracted and jump back to the first one, starting a loop that wouldn't end until someone snapped him out of it.

It was easy to blame it on the brain damage, but Tucker figured that Caboose had probably always been this way. Even before things started getting crazy in Blood Gulch, he wasn't too bright. It had been hard to get him to take things seriously even before he started threatening him with the scary voice. Maybe that was also why Caboose hated him; they'd gotten along relatively better before that.

Well, it was hard, but Tucker could at least _try_ to be patient with the kid.


	182. Exurb

A/N: Happy Canada Day! Also, I had to think outside the box for this one…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 1_ _st_ _, Exurb_

 _1\. A small, usually prosperous, community situated beyond the suburbs of a city._

* * *

Things weren't all bad out here.

Sure, living underground was rough for the first little while, but Kimball had gotten used to it pretty quickly. The caves were an ideal place to hide themselves and store their supplies. They even had access to a few natural skylights so they could grow their own emergency food supply and not have to worry about starving to death. Sure, there was a flooding risk if it rained too hard, but that rarely happened. So while it wasn't ideal, it was livable.

And those assholes from the Federal Army didn't even know what they had. While she and her men worked hard every day to make sure they could keep on surviving, they got to live in actual buildings with a stable food supply. They didn't know what it was like to risk drowning or cave-ins. Felix, at least, had been encouraging on that front.

"Don't worry about those sheltered assholes, Vanessa. 'Comfort brings weakness', after all."

She'd raised an eyebrow at that. "That doesn't really sound like anything you'd say," she admitted. He'd laughed it off.

"Yeah, you're right. Locus said that once back when we used to work together. 'Course, things were different back then… I still think about those days sometimes, you know?" he sighed. And she did, because she herself still thought of the days when Chorus had been peaceful, when her own planet wasn't tearing itself apart with a stupid Civil War that was showing no signs of stopping.

But he was right; comfort brings weakness. Those sheltered stuck-up tyrants wouldn't be able to stop her army of survivors. …Hopefully.


	183. Smorgasbord

A/N: Huh, I didn't know this word was from Sweden. Well, you learn something new every day.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 2_ _nd_ _, Smorgasbord_

 _1\. An extensive array or variety._

 _2\. A buffet meal of various hot and cold hors d'oeuvres, salads, casserole dishes, meats, cheeses, etc._

* * *

Now this was something Grif could get used to.

Chorus was saved, yay, go team, we did it, all that jazz. But it was the victory party that he'd been most looking forward to. Parties meant food, and lots of it. Finally, he could eat as much as he wanted without someone breathing down his neck or cutting him off in sheer frustration! Hallelujah, praise the Lord!

Simmons just sighed and rolled his eyes at Grif's excitement. Really, even after all this time, he was still thinking about food? Then again, food was a de-stressor for Grif, and war was one of the most stressful things of all, what with the fact that you could die at any second hanging over your head. This would be good for him; he'd be able to stuff himself as much as he wanted today, then go back to his usual slightly-more-than-average diet later.

Unfortunately, that meant he had to be stuck on Grif duty for the next few hours, making sure that he didn't accidently eat himself sick (again). A stressed-out Grif often had difficulty noticing that the pain in his stomach was from being too full instead of too empty. He knew the signs to watch out for; slowing down, armor suddenly not fitting right, skin paling, all the usual signs of illness. Seriously, Grif was more trouble than he was worth sometimes.

But Simmons put up with him anyway. Besides, it'd be a shame to let all that food go to waste.


	184. Sotto Voce

A/N: I don't think they're capable of this. Even their whispers are loud.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 3_ _rd_ _, Sotto Voce_

 _1\. In a low, soft voice so as not to be overheard._

* * *

Were these guys just incapable of being quiet?

Carolina rolled her eyes at yet another bout of yelling commenced. She liked these guys, really she did, but sometimes the noise got to be a bit much. Even when they were whispering to each other, they were so noisy that everyone else heard them anyway. At least Wash could still keep quiet.

It seemed like the common tongue in Blood Gulch was yelling. Sarge did most of it, of course, but Caboose was a close second. If they weren't yelling at their own teams for something stupid, they were yelling immature insults across a canyon at each other. Seriously, how had they not lost their voices yet if they did this all the time? No wonder Epsilon had been so loud; he had to be for anyone to hear him with this particular company.

"Your mom wears army boots and she looks awful in them!"

"Leave my mother out of this, Red!"

…Wait, was that Wash? Oh, right, she reminded herself, he'd succumbed to the insanity long before she showed up. Adapting to survive; that was how he handled things. And in an environment with constant yelling, it was only natural he'd pick that up. She just hoped he never got as bad as the others. Conversations would be a nightmare…


	185. Unalienable

A/N: Another tough one. Well, I'll do what I can. Maybe something with the sword…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 4_ _th_ _, Unalienable_

 _1\. Not transferable to another or not capable of being taken away or denied; inalienable._

* * *

"She was that desperate?"

"Yeah," Tucker shrugged, not really knowing if this was big news to Carolina or not. Ever since they started gossiping about Wash and how he was as a rookie (seriously, now he could barely contain his laughter every time he saw him!) they'd made it a thing that they would meet up every now and again and swap stories. Who knew Carolina had a thing for embarrassing stories?

Whenever the topic shifted to Tex, it was hit or miss. Sometimes, she'd get sulky and he'd have to change the topic quickly before she decided to go off on her own and punch something. But most of the time (thank goodness) she'd be fascinated by how differently she acted around him compared to her. Seriously, the Tex she knew would never have allowed anyone to call her 'Bitchpants McCrabby' while leaving their balls intact.

"Well, she did always have a bit of a thing for going over-the-top with weapons back in Freelancer. It's not much of a stretch, now that I think about it," she admitted.

"Yeah, but I didn't think she'd resort to using my lesbian fantasies against me just to get it!" Carolina shuddered almost imperceptibly.

"And that's when she found out that the sword only works for you?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, she was _so_ mad! Started watching me like a hawk after that. You know, half 'cause Wyoming had a hit out on me, and half 'cause she wanted the sword after I died. I honestly don't know what her priority was; _really_ hope she just hated Wyoming more than she wanted me dead so she could get it."

"Well, she _did_ seem to have it out for him. Then again, so did half the team. Not a lot of people actually liked Wyoming," she admitted.

"Good riddance."


	186. Gobsmacked

A/N: This is me when the new episodes come out! Also, Carolina's response to extreme stupidity is basically mine: all I can think is 'why'.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 5_ _th_ _, Gobsmacked_

 _1\. (Chiefly British Informal) Utterly astounded; astonished._

* * *

Carolina wasn't easily impressed.

Her standards were high, almost impossibly so, therefore impressing her was considered about as difficult as winning an arm-wrestling match against South. Obviously, spending an extended amount of time around her favorite idiots had lowered these standards to a much more manageable level.

But it wasn't their antics that impressed her; far from it. More often than not, whenever they did something crazy, she was just left stunned and wondering what in the hell possessed them to think that this was a good idea in any way, shape, or form. What impressed her was that every single time something like this happened, Wash would just roll his eyes and deal with it like everything was normal.

He'd certainly come a long way from the clueless rookie. Normally, he'd have been stunned into silence right along with her, then start screeching at the top of his lungs as soon as he recovered, his voice hitting that squeaky pitch he'd always been teased about. Now, he was acting more like a mildly stressed out, seen-it-all dad. He'd still yell every now and again, but it was much less often than he used to.

Looks like she was going to need more time to get used to the guys' antics. She couldn't lose to Wash, now, could she?


	187. Instantiate

A/N: Yet another thing that I do all the time.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 6_ _th_ _, Instantiate_

 _1\. To provide an instance of or concrete evidence in support of (a theory, concept, claim, or the like)._

* * *

"I'm telling you, you're wrong."

"I'm just saying, it could happen!"

Grif and Simmons were just standing around talking again, just like old times. Though Grif constantly got under his skin with all the dumb things he said and did, Simmons admitted to himself that he had missed the quiet times just standing around chatting with Grif about nothing in particular. Especially since Grif could be strangely insightful at times.

This was not one of them.

"Look, just hear me out, man," he said. "Sooner or later, Carolina is going to admit that I'm right about this. She's done it before, and she'll do it again."

"What? She's never admitted you were right about anything!" Simmons retorted.

"She has, too! Remember back on Chorus? I said we should skip morning training and take a nap, she was yelling at me about it, and then a landslide completely messed up everyone's schedules. Then she pointed out that if my squad had gone out for morning training like she had suggested, we wouldn't have had enough hands to deal with the fallout. She admitted I was right, so there!"

"Okay, you've got me there," Simmons mumbled. "But she's never going to admit you're right about using Donut as an emergency food supply since he burned down our bases."

"Hey, a guy can dream, right?"


	188. Phenology

A/N: Well, I'll do what I can here…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 7_ _th_ _, Phenology_

 _1\. The science dealing with the influence of climate on the recurrence of such annual phenomena of animal and plant life as budding and bird migrations._

* * *

Tucker didn't miss Blood Gulch. Not one bit.

It was hot, dry, and boring on the best of days. On the worst, it was would get so bad that he couldn't even will himself to move. Literally every single place he'd worked after that was better in comparison, even Chorus when it had been a complete war zone.

The desert had been just as bad with how hot and dry it was, but at least he had access to a water supply and Junior had been there, so that had been a plus. Sidewinder had been cold as balls, just like Church had said, but it was always easier to warm up than to cool down. Valhalla had been the best of the bunch from what little experience he had with it; perfectly mild temperatures, a water source, and plenty of shady spots to take a nap or do some more… 'private' activities. The jungles on Chorus had been hot, but it was a wet heat; dry heats were always way worse.

This new home was comparable to Valhalla in the comfort department. And since they were retired now, Wash didn't have any excuse to yell at him for sleeping in. Finally; a place where he could just do whatever he wanted at his own pace while being comfortable no matter what.

"HOW DO YOU BURN DOWN A WATERPARK?!"

…Or at least as comfortable as he could be around these assholes.


	189. Cannikin

A/N: Okay, this is another painfully specific one…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 8_ _th_ _, Cannikin_

 _1\. A small can or drinking cup._

 _2\. A small wooden bucket._

* * *

Well, it seemed like every team had this debate sooner or later.

Wash was well aware that he and Carolina were always going to be on opposite sides of this debate, and both respected each others' opinions on the matter. But not everyone was as reasonable as them. Granted, the debate the Reds and Blues were having now was a lot rowdier than the last one they'd been involved in back in Freelancer, but the topic was still the same.

Which do you prefer; coffee or tea?

Wash drank so much coffee that York had once joked that his blood was practically coffee now. Then Delta tried to get him to cut back by telling him some stupid lie that if he kept doing that, then if he slept for more than three hours at a time, his heart would explode (which he most certainly hadn't completely fallen for, thank you very much). On the other hand, Carolina was so stressed all the time that coffee made things worse, so she'd have a nice cup of tea to calm her nerves in her spare time. She admitted to being the only tea drinker in her family, which hadn't surprised Wash one bit when he put the pieces together.

Preferences in Blood Gulch were split 50/50. Tucker and Wash often fought over the coffee machine in the mornings and Sarge often force-fed Grif some of his to make sure he couldn't fall asleep in the middle of the day (it didn't help, and just managed to make Grif hate coffee). Church also had been fond of it back when he had a body to drink it with. Meanwhile, Simmons drank tea for his nerves, and Donut just liked the taste. Caboose wasn't allowed to drink coffee, so he had to make do with tea. Surprisingly, Tucker had mentioned during the whole thing that Tex hadn't cared either way. Wash hadn't expected Tex to be a tea-drinker, but apparently she'd take what she could get.

And that was how they ended up where they were now, the teams getting into a heated debate over what was better, with all of the Reds getting yelled at by Sarge for treason. All the while, Wash and Carolina sat off to the side, one chugging coffee, the other calmly sipping tea, waiting to see if they should step in.


	190. Ameliorate

A/N: Finally, a word I actually know! Also, I hate going to the dentist. The feeling of someone poking around in my mouth is just so uncomfortable, and my sensitive taste buds are pretty much on fire for the next half-hour after.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 9_ _th_ _, Ameliorate_

 _1\. To make or become better, more bearable, or more satisfactory; improve._

* * *

Simmons hated maintenance day.

Whoever said being a cyborg was easy needed to be dragged out into the streets and shot. Sure, most of the time it was fine. There were a few glitches every now and again, but Sarge had mostly ironed out all the kinks. He even made him waterproof, just in case of emergency water fights. And he definitely didn't regret saving Grif, no matter what either of them said.

But maintenance days were just the worst. He knew they were important, but dentist appointments were important too, and that didn't stop people from hating them. Just like a trip to the dentist, it was the invasive nature of it that bothered him. Once every three months, Sarge would have him strip down so he could get a good look at his parts and see if there was anything he could do to make him more comfortable and efficient.

It certainly didn't help that Sarge often had 'ideas' that he wanted to test, with poor Simmons being the guinea pig. Like that time he'd tried to install rocket boosters in his legs to help him run faster. That just resulted in two broken legs and a whole lot of moaning. Grif had laughed, but he'd also stuck around to keep him company while Sarge fixed up his legs.

Why did having Grif around make this whole thing more tolerable? Maybe because it reminded him of why he needed to do this. He gave those parts to Grif to keep him alive, and although it pissed him off when he didn't take care of them, he would do it all over again if he got the chance.

And maybe that's why he dreaded maintenance day coming up with Grif not around.


	191. Janus-Faced

A/N: Urgh, I know it's just a little thing, but mispronunciations annoy me. The site I get the words from mispronounced this one. It has the same root as January, people! It's not that hard!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 10_ _th_ _, Janus-Faced_

 _1\. Having two contrasting aspects, as the alternation of mood in a capricious person._

 _2\. Having two faces, one looking forward, one looking backward, as the Roman deity Janus._

* * *

Trusting people was harder than it sounded.

It seemed like everyone had their own ulterior motives for why they wanted to talk to you or be friends. Some wanted information, some wanted you to do something for them, and some just wanted the satisfaction of stabbing you in the back. They'd put on a front to get your attention, all the while secretly plotting behind their back.

Was it any wonder Wash had trouble trusting people after everything?

Getting stabbed in the back because you didn't notice someone's two-faced nature never stopped hurting, no matter how many times it happened. South, the Meta, Carolina, the Director… all of them had used and manipulated him to get something they wanted. So he always kept a close eye on anyone new who approached him or the guys, trying to ascertain what exactly they wanted. It didn't always work; Felix and Temple were prime examples of that.

But he knew he could trust the guys. Despite having their own hidden sides, they had nothing to do with using or hurting people. Mostly they just used their façades as a way to cover up the fact that they cared more than they let on, or to hide the fact that they were hurting. That kind of two-faced nature was something he didn't necessarily mind. And they'd even let him get a peak at the other side sometimes, like when Tucker checked up on him after a long night, or when Caboose came to him to talk about Church as a way of coping with losing him.

Well, everyone has something to hide, after all. It's just a matter of what's being hidden.


	192. Perambulator

A/N: Urgh… It certainly doesn't help that people prefer to use the short form of this word.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 11_ _th_ _, Perambulator_

 _1\. Baby carriage._

 _2\. An odometer pushed by a person walking._

 _3\. A person who makes a tour of inspection on foot._

* * *

Tucker didn't know what to do.

He'd never planned for anything like this. Then again, what man could possibly prepare for getting impregnated by an alien and giving birth? Now he was stuck with a half-alien kid and he didn't have a single idea about what to do. He hated commitment, and having a kid was like, the ultimate commitment or some shit like that.

His teammates were no help at all. Caboose hadn't even known where babies came from before now. Doc was too busy focusing on the kid's health and didn't really seem to care much about Tucker's emotional crisis. Church's advice was half 'shoot the thing in the head' and half 'ask someone else; I'd be a horrible dad'. There was no chance in hell he was asking the Reds for this kind of advice.

Junior grabbed onto his hand and he felt this weird rush of happiness. Was this some of that maternal instinct shit? He had to admit, the little guy was kinda cute, no matter what the guys said. He seemed pretty focused on something, so Tucker turned to look. Sure enough, Tex and Church were getting into another shouting match, which Tex would win, then Church would come sulking back to base and not talk to anyone for a few hours.

"Wow, he must really like being under her heel," he muttered before he could stop himself. Weren't you not supposed to say those things in front of a kid?

"Bow chicka honk honk."

…Oh, forget what he said before about not wanting to commit, he liked this kid already.


	193. Glocal

A/N: Urgh… I hate this kind of topic.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 12_ _th_ _, Glocal_

 _1\. Of or relating to the interconnection of global and local issues, factors, etc._

* * *

Kimball had to learn to adapt pretty quickly.

When it came to the Reds and Blues, there were certain… eccentricities that she had to learn how to cope with. It wasn't just a matter of keeping them happy; if she wasn't careful, they could pose a risk to their work. Keep Caboose away from the explosives. Don't let Tucker spend too much time around the women. Don't put too much pressure on Simmons or he'll crack and be useless for the next few minutes at least.

But by far the worst was Grif.

Their food supplies were limited as it was. Being in a war zone didn't exactly give them the luxury of a stable food supply. They grew some of what they needed, stole some from the Feds during their raids, and carefully rationed it in order to make sure they could last long enough for the next supply run. But if she didn't keep a close eye on Grif, or make someone else do it, he would sneak off and stuff his face.

Simmons had said that eating was a coping mechanism for him, and that he was under a lot of pressure. He certainly didn't act like it; barely caring about anything unless food was involved. At the moment, she didn't care how much stress he was under; that was no excuse to eat them into a planet-wide food shortage. He'd just have to deal with it until the war was over and he could go somewhere with a more stable food supply.


	194. Harrumph

A/N: People who do this piss me off… The sound is annoying and they seem to think it makes them sound important.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 13_ _th_ _, Harrumph_

 _1\. To clear the throat audibly in a self-important manner._

 _2\. To express oneself gruffly._

* * *

"So, Tucker says you can do a Sarge impression."

Wash sighed; could that guy ever keep his mouth shut? But it seemed he'd managed to get Grif interested in something other than eating, sleeping, or driving, so there was that. Still… "Why do you want to know?" he asked suspiciously.

"If you can, which I doubt, it'd be a great opportunity to make fun of Sarge without getting threatened, yelled at, or shot at. I can't let a chance like this slip by," Grif admitted.

…Okay, that was a pretty convincing reason. Sarge and Grif had never gotten along, and even though they did pull each others' asses out of the fire from time to time, that never really changed. This would be a good opportunity for Grif to let off some steam, which could actually make him more efficient if he was more relaxed. But there was no way he was giving this up for free, and Grif was a pretty hard negotiator. How to proceed…

"What do I get out of it?" Best to test the waters first.

"Depends. How do I even know you can do it? I've only got Tucker's word to go off of." Oh, he was _good_. Time to step it up a little.

"If you show up for drills tomorrow, I'll give you a preview." That'd work. Grif would go for the loophole that he was only told to show up, not actually do anything. He could use that as a starting point, then con him into actually doing the work later on.

"Deal." Okay, he could make this work. He'd probably be spending the night practicing his Sarge impression, but it'd be worth it to see Grif actually pulling his weight.

…Oh, God, he already sounded like Sarge.


	195. Fete

A/N: These guys would take any excuse to do this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 14_ _th_ _, Fete_

 _1\. A festive celebration or entertainment._

 _2\. A day of celebration; holiday._

* * *

"Do I want to know?"

Wash sighed in response, looking over the assorted Reds and Blues lying around the base. "Probably not, but I should tell you anyway," he admitted. Carolina couldn't help but be curious, though; she'd only been gone for ten minutes, and things had been fine when she left. Now it reeked of booze (which she didn't even know they had) and everyone was woozy and groaning.

"So it turns out it's already been three years since I faked my death. I wasn't really keeping track, but Caboose was, and he thought that was reason enough for a party, and the others just felt like getting drunk, I guess," he explained with a shrug.

"Well, that answers two questions at least." What had happened, and who was responsible. "That still doesn't explain where the booze came from."

"Donut. Don't ask. Somehow he's just really good at getting things, and everyone's learned by this point not to question it." He paused for a moment, before fishing out another bottle. "Looks like there's one left. Want some?"

Normally, Carolina only drank on special occasions, and even then she'd only drink a little. She never knew when she'd end up getting called into action, after all. But what the hell, she was retired now. She could afford to try and relax a little. "Sure; why not?" she agreed.

"Woo!" Tucker cheered groggily before passing out again. Wash rolled his eyes, but he had a fond smile on his face, so he couldn't have been too annoyed.

"Well, here's to not dying on schedule."


	196. Uptalk

A/N: Yet another thing I notice I do a lot.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 15_ _th_ _, Uptalk_

 _1\. A rise in pitch at the end usually of a declarative sentence, especially if habitual: often represented in writing by a question mark._

* * *

"What happened this time?"

Neither Caboose nor Tucker were looking at him. Tucker was being sulky and defiant again, while Caboose just couldn't hear him. Understandable, really, after that explosion. But how had it happened? Caboose still wasn't allowed near them, so it could only have been Tucker. Wash just sighed; why did this have to be so difficult?

"Okay," Tucker admitted. "So I may have taken my eye off Caboose for a few seconds?"

"Are you asking me or telling me, Tucker?" Wash asked, crossing his arms.

"I GOT TO PLAY WITH THE GRENADES AGAIN!" Caboose shouted, startling both of them.

"Caboose, knock it off!" Tucker complained.

"Tucker, he can't go near the explosives; it's a risk to both him and the rest of us. How many times do I have to tell you to always watch Caboose when you're taking inventory?" he scolded.

"Uh… 17?"

And how many times _should_ I need to tell you that?"

"…1?"

Why couldn't he take this seriously? They both could have been seriously hurt! "Just don't let it happen again, okay?"

"Yeah, I got it."


	197. Alveolate

A/N: All I can say about today's new episode is that everyone needs hugs big time. And I decided to go for biology again.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 16_ _th_ _, Alveolate_

 _1\. Having alveoli; deeply pitted, as a honeycomb._

* * *

He couldn't breathe.

Grif really should have expected this. Simmons' lungs had never been the best, and of course his smoking habit made it worse. Doing any kind of too-strenuous activity was eventually going to set off an asthma attack; just because it had never happened before didn't mean it couldn't.

Was this how Simmons felt every single time this happened? He could vaguely hear someone next to him saying something ( _calm down, panicking will make it worse_ ), and feel someone's hand on his back, gently rubbing circles into it. Something was shoved into his mouth, startling him a bit, but Simmons ( _right, it was Simmons_ ) was right there to calm him down.

"I'll walk you through it. Deep breath, hold it for ten seconds, then let go. You might need a second one, just let me know if you're still having trouble." The inhaler did its job pretty well; breathing still hurt, but he wasn't struggling anymore. Finally, his ragged breaths evened out, and the attack ended.

"I knew it would happen someday," Simmons sighed, "I just didn't think it would be because you were running for the mess hall. Let me guess; jell-o day?"

Grif just nodded. Really, Simmons knew him all too well.


	198. Exculpatory

A/N: Geez, how many characters that I know need this? Guess I just have a thing for guilt complexes. And Season 15 is just making it all worse.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 17_ _th_ _, Exculpatory_

 _1\. Tending to clear from a charge of fault or guilt._

* * *

This was all her fault.

This guy had it out for her, and for something she hadn't even cared enough to remember. Just more proof for Carolina that she was a horrible person, and no matter what anyone said, any good she'd done since then was not going to make up for it. She'd certainly had a lot of time to come to this conclusion; being trapped in her armor, locked underground with the corpses of her dead colleagues (and one who was on his way) didn't leave her with a lot to do other than regret.

Wash was going to die here, the Reds and Blues were going to die here, and it was all her fault.

They hadn't done anything to deserve what was happening to them other than associating with her. She was the only one who needed to be punished. Then again, this _was_ punishment, wasn't it? Taking away those that she cherished, and making sure they suffered horribly before they died, was absolute agony for her. Her only consolation was that at least Grif was spared, and even then she didn't know how long that would last.

"I'm so sorry…" she finally cried. She'd been avoiding saying anything to try to save her strength, but really, what was the point anymore?

"…Not your fault," Wash rasped, and oh god, he sounded so _tired_. She didn't agree with him, but figured she should just keep quiet. He needed to save his strength more than she did; if any of them deserved to make it out alive, it was him.

As long as he made it out, she could die happy.


	199. Ovine

A/N: Urgh, packing up for moving day is such a pain. Really cuts into my other work.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 18_ _th_ _, Ovine_

 _1\. Pertaining to, of the nature of, or like sheep._

* * *

They'd never thought to question these things until it was too late.

Wash had always believed in only questioning orders if they were blatantly counterproductive. That was how he'd gotten his court martial in the first place. The Director had been more careful; either that, or Wash had been too afraid to mess up and get dismissed. He'd never questioned the orders that came from him, and that had cost him his friends, his sanity, and his self-respect.

Carolina had been too blinded by a desperate need for praise. If this was the only way her father was going to look at her, she'd do what he wanted; no questions asked. Looking back on her actions now, she scoffed; deep down she had still been that sad, scared little girl who missed her mother and needed her father to tell her that she was loved. She'd been all too easy to manipulate, and she knew it.

They were just doing what they were told, like a couple of sheep, and look where it had gotten them.

It was one reason they liked being with the Reds and Blues so much. No one really gave orders, and when someone did, it was usually brushed off with a complaint or an argument. This kind of environment was surprisingly good for their stress levels.

"Hey, guys! Sarge made an evil robot army to fight, but the robots malfunctioned, and now they're attacking the dinosaurs!"

Or not, Carolina sighed as Wash took off like a bullet, his excitement almost palpable.


	200. Phlegethon

A/N: In Dante's Inferno, the Phlegethon was a river of boiling blood that flowed through the first part of the seventh circle of hell; violence against others.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 19_ _th_ _, Phlegethon_

 _1\. (Often lowercase) A stream of fire or fiery light._

 _2\. (Classical Mythology) A river of fire, one of five rivers surrounding Hades._

* * *

Why did they always have to resort to violence?

It was an inevitability of human nature, Sigma supposed, to fight when backed into a corner. It wasn't the rational decision by any stretch of the word; Maine was enormous, a natural predator. To face them in a head-on assault was practically suicide. It would be better if they just gave them what they came for without a fight, but it always ended the same.

Maine himself had been naturally inclined to violence even before Sigma, so he had asked why. To his surprise, Maine had admitted that it wasn't something he was overly fond of; it was 'necessary'. Killing a few enemy soldiers would spare the majority of innocent casualties, and if he had to get his hands dirty for that, he was fine with it. His actions served the greater good; he genuinely believed that.

This had only confused Sigma further; why do humans fight if the majority of them don't enjoy violence? The answer finally came to him when they had gone after Delta and South Dakota shot Washington in the back, leaving him behind to make her escape. Humans will always prioritize survival; whether it be their own or a bystander's depended on the human themselves. Their enemies thought them a threat, so they chose to try and eliminate them as a permanent means of ensuring both survival and success.

An interesting concept, but ultimately foolish. They were just throwing their lives away and making them stronger.


	201. Lickspittle

A/N: Nobody likes a kissass.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 20_ _th_ _, Lickspittle_

 _1\. A contemptible, fawning person; a servile flatterer or toady._

* * *

That was one of Grif's many mottoes; nobody likes a kissass.

The whole idea sickened him. People would throw away their own confidence and plans all for the sake of impressing someone who probably didn't give a crap. He knew he didn't have any fucks left to give about Matthews, and while Sarge probably cared a little more about Simmons than he did about Matthews, that still wasn't much.

That really sucked, since Simmons was a pretty interesting guy when he wasn't clinging to Sarge out of a desperate need for a stable father figure (and why he went with _Sarge_ of all people is anyone's guess). When his nerves weren't acting up, he was pretty smart, and he was really good at insulting people. But the second Sarge showed up, he would start agreeing with Sarge's dumbass plans, even though he was fully aware of how stupid they were. He seemed to be growing out of it, but every once in a while, he'd relapse.

Though he'd never admit it, part of him was curious about what Matthews was like when he wasn't trying to suck up to him. That was part of why he pushed him so hard and never praised him. Just a part, of course; most of it was just an excuse to be as lazy as possible. But one day, he'd make the little pest crack.

Who knew? Maybe the kid would be like Simmons was deep down.


	202. Al Desko

A/N: I do this all the time, mostly out of laziness.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 21_ _st_ _, Al Desko_

 _1\. (Facetious, of meals or eating) At one's desk in an office._

* * *

Sometimes people just wanted to avoid the lunch rush.

At least, that was Wash's excuse for always avoiding the mess hall. He'd slip in, grab something small and probably not nearly filling enough, slip out, and go eat in his room or something. Tucker often teased that he was shy about letting people see his face, and while that was part of it, that wasn't the whole issue.

He'd been trying, but every now and again old memories would creep up on him. Sure, Freelancer had ended horribly, crashing and burning with him left behind, but it hadn't been all bad. He'd had friends, and they'd all be sure to meet up for lunch and just chat about nothing. But now there were all gone, and he just couldn't handle the echoes of what could have been.

Maybe he'd try again tomorrow. If he kept at it, eventually he'd be able to fill the emptiness with new memories of what he had now.


	203. Tarn

A/N: Another annoyingly specific one… And stupid Fanfiction error making this late!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 22_ _nd_ _, Tarn_

 _1\. A small mountain lake or pool, especially one in a cirque._

* * *

Well, there were some things you didn't see every day.

Caboose making smart decisions, Church not yelling at someone, and Sarge praising Grif all fell into the category of 'things that are so rare that they're alarming'. There were quite a few of these things in existence, and while the chance of them happening wasn't 'impossible', it was low enough that it was shocking every single time. One of the most notable ones was 'seeing Wash relaxed'.

So imagine Tucker's surprise when he set out for the day looking for Wash and found him at the lake, armor off, soaking his feet and looking calmer than he had in days. Sure, everyone was making the best use of their downtime that they could, even Carolina, but he knew Wash better than he knew Carolina, so he was more used to seeing him uptight and constantly stressed out. Occasionally, he'd show his snarky side, usually at Tucker's expense, but even then it was rare for him to honestly smile.

Now, he just looked so calm and relaxed that it would be a real shame to disturb him. This was probably the first time he'd taken an honest-to-God break in _years_. Well, just this once, Tucker figured, he'd leave him be. It wasn't really that important anyway. He was pretty sure Carolina could handle something like man-eating dinosaurs on her own.


	204. Polemic

A/N: …I want to hug Caboose so bad right now. And I want to punch Temple's teeth in.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 23_ _rd_ _, Polemic_

 _1\. A controversial argument, as one against some opinion, doctrine, etc._

 _2\. A person who argues in opposition to another; controversialist._

* * *

Church couldn't be gone.

Caboose felt like the floor had disappeared under him again. Church… gone? Not coming back? Forever? That wasn't true; it couldn't be true. Tucker just stood there in the other corner of their cell, looking all different kinds of hurt. "I'm so sorry, Caboose," he repeated. "He's not coming back this time."

But Church _always_ came back. Every single time they thought he was dead, he found a way to come back. He always came back, because they all cared about him enough for it to happen. He had to come back again… right? But Tucker never apologized to him; this time was way too different. Even Simmons and Grif had taken a break from their bickering to silently try and comfort Caboose in their own ways.

"It's okay to cry," Tucker went on. "It's okay to miss him. We're gonna make Temple pay for this, I promise."

But Caboose didn't want Tucker's promises; he wanted his best friend back. Sure, he yelled a lot, but he always did what he could to help keep him out of trouble, and bailed him out when he couldn't. His chest felt like it was being squeezed, and he started to shake. Finally, he couldn't hold the tears back anymore.

Most people would expect Caboose to be a loud crier. They would be wrong; Caboose was surprisingly quiet when he cried. He usually only whimpered a little on the rare occasions when it happened. Gently, like he was holding Junior, Tucker hugged his overly-affectionate teammate for once. Caboose felt a little better with that; hugs made everything better.

Everyone else knew what would be coming up in the near future. When he calmed down, he'd be angry about being tricked like that. Temple had made Caboose very angry, and people learned to not like him when he was angry.


	205. Highfalutin

A/N: Why are there so many people like this in the world?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 24_ _th_ _, Highfalutin_

 _1\. (Informal) Pompous; bombastic; haughty; pretentious._

* * *

Church was a smug little shit.

That was the common opinion around Blood Gulch (except Caboose for obvious reasons). Whenever he got a chance to show off, he'd take it. He could be pretty damn rude about it too; always asking why his teammates couldn't figure out something so simple. What Church didn't seem to get was that what he was figuring out was anything but simple.

It was always computer-related, too. Tucker had thought it hilarious at the time; he couldn't tell military time, but he could read binary no problem (which was actually what had tipped him off to Church secretly being an AI). Heck, sometimes the guys from Red Team would be willing to swallow their pride and make deals with Church for help with their shit, desperate enough to put up with the berating and the insulting of their intelligence.

"Seriously, Tucker, how are you not getting this?"

What he didn't seem to get what that he was the weird one for getting it in the first place.


	206. Litotes

A/N: The most common rhetorical device you've never heard of.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 25_ _th_ _, Litotes_

 _1\. (Rhetoric) Understatement, especially that in which an affirmative is expressed by the negative of its contrary, as in "not bad at all."_

* * *

The kid was good, no doubt about that.

York had been interested in Wash ever since he joined up. The kid was clumsy and awkward, and he'd been wondering why someone like him had ended up in Freelancer. That all changed the first time he'd seen him in action. It was like he was more comfortable on the battlefield than in social situations, which was actually true for most agents. Sure, he tripped up every now and again, but it was far less often.

The kid was a soldier, through and through. He dutifully followed his orders and got the job done, no matter what. But he was still so young that it was genuinely saddening to see him having trouble loosening up when they had down time. He tended to stick close to Connie and the Triplets, barely even interacting with his seniors aside from Carolina, who always made an effort to know what the company she kept was capable of doing.

It was up to him to make the first move. So after a big mission that ended in lots of explosions (they all seemed to end that way, recently) he caught up to Wash, in the process of getting ready for a post-op shower. Casually, he ruffled his already messy blond hair. "You weren't half-bad out there, rookie," he greeted cheerfully.

"T-Thanks," he mumbled, definitely unused to the attention.

Little did either of them know, this little talk, barely two sentences, was the start of a colorful friendship, complete with sarcasm, playful teasing, and momma North occasionally having to pull them apart.


	207. Autarky

A/N: And more government topics…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 26_ _th_ _, Autarky_

 _1\. The condition of self-sufficiency, especially economic, as applied to a nation._

 _2\. A national policy of economic independence._

* * *

They could get by just fine on their own.

Kimball couldn't help shaking her head at the irony. The UNSC had done nothing when they really needed their help, hadn't even noticed that they were all dying, but the second things were peaceful again they just had to move in under the pretence of 'helping'. Chorus didn't need their help, and certainly didn't want it.

If it weren't for the Reds and Blues getting stranded on their planet, the UNSC wouldn't have given a flying fuck about them. But now, they were getting back on their feet and pulling together to make their own government. They were going to run things the way they should have years ago, before the civil war started. And these idiots come swooping in with some bull about how they had to defer to their authority when it came to running things, as if they'd been there the whole time.

Fuck that, Kimball scoffed. Her people had fought and died for this peaceful independent life. She was not going to dishonor their sacrifices by letting it get taken away. But she also knew that there was no way they could handle another war. She'd have to be careful about this, negotiate calmly, and try to come to an agreement that both sides could be happy with.

She sighed sadly; why couldn't Doyle have survived? He was much better suited to this than her.


	208. Bumfuzzle

A/N: There sure are a lot of odd slang terms for confusing people.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 27_ _th_ _, Bumfuzzle_

 _1\. (Chiefly South Midland and Southern U.S.) To confuse or fluster._

* * *

Nobody really got them; that was probably why they got along so well.

People felt uncomfortable around Florida for many reasons. Whether it was his overly cheerful attitude, his habit of playing with his victims, and his unpredictable nature, no one really knew what to do around him, so they just avoided him. That suited him just fine.

Wyoming was even less popular. His attitude rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, and he seemed to relish that. Unlike Florida, he seemed to go out of his way to make people dislike him, especially York, who he could never resist tormenting. The feeling was mutual, and their feuds became things that people commonly placed bets on.

So it really was no surprise to Gamma that these two outsider oddballs got along. They just seemed to take pleasure in messing with people, and they relished in observing other people's reactions to their actions. He himself would join in with a few knock-knock jokes, which other people were annoyed by, but those two enjoyed.

Yes, they were a small group of social outcasts, but they had each other.


	209. Ballon

A/N: Okay, so here's a big heads-up to start; I'm moving. I'll probably be without access to a computer that I can use for writing for at most a week, so I'm uploading this chapter early. I'll give a mass update as soon as I can, but for now, please be patient.

On a more story-relevant note, am I the only person who has noticed the similarities between Jaune and Wash? Blond hair, multiple sisters, close relationship with a green-eyed redheaded woman, stepping up as a team leader even when they don't have much confidence in being able to do it at first, starting off naïve and idealistic before a tragedy leaves them more bitter and cynical?

Makes me wonder what else they could have in common…

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 28_ _th_ _, Ballon_

 _1.(Ballet) The lightness and grace of movement that make a dancer appear buoyant._

* * *

Connie was surprised to say the least.

She hadn't been able to sleep, so she had decided to just get up and walk around for a little while. Maybe she'd stop by the mess hall and try to sneak herself a midnight snack. These thoughts were interrupted when she passed by the training room and heard something. She frowned; Carolina had gone to sleep last she'd seen, and she couldn't think of anyone else who'd stay up this late for training.

As she drew closer, the sound grew more distinct, puzzling her. Was that… music? Peering out from the observation deck, she spotted someone down below, actually dancing. Impressed, she continued to watch. She honestly hadn't thought anyone in Freelancer would be the dancing type. Looking more closely, he looked familiar… wait a minute, was that Wash?

He was moving so gracefully that she almost hadn't recognized him. His natural klutziness just seemed to evaporate away, and he looked so calm and relaxed. Eventually, however, he noticed his hidden audience and abruptly stopped, blushing redder than Carolina's hair. He tried to make a break for it, but Connie caught him just outside.

"I didn't know you could dance," she started off casually. "You were really good."

He was still blushing, but he seemed happy. "Thanks. I was kind of hoping no one would find out," he admitted. "It's… a little embarrassing."

"Why? I thought it was pretty cool," she praised, making him blush even harder. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"You pick up on a few things when you have four sisters," he answered dryly. Things settled back into the quiet, slightly awkward state they were in before when Connie spoke up again.

"Could you teach me?"


	210. Membranophone

A/N: FINALLY! I FINALLY FOUND THE TRICK TO THIS! Sorry I was gone so long, guys. The move went off without a hitch, and I'm nicely settled into my new place. I even got the computer here without any sort of damage! ...But the movers broke my desk. Well, it was an old desk anyway, but still. Anyway, I don't have Word or any kind of typing programs on my laptop, and there weren't any desks big enough for my computer here. Lucky, I finally discovered the copy-and-paste thing on this site, and I can finally get back to work! Woo-hoo!

In the meantime, Season 15 has come and gone. That was one of the most intense roller coaster rides I've ever experienced watching any sort of series! Now I'm waiting on season 5 of RWBY; here's hoping it's able to satisfy me!

Well, I've got a lot of work to do here, so on that note, on with the show! And on a side note; I'm no good at drumming.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 29th, Membranophone_

 _1\. Any musical instrument, as a drum, in which the sound is produced by striking, rubbing, or blowing against a membrane stretched over a frame._

* * *

It was a surprise to everyone that Caboose was actually good at playing drums.

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't all just randomly hitting things and trying to make it sound good. It took real finesse and co-ordination to keep a proper beat, and Caboose didn't seem to have any. With how clumsy he was on a regular basis, Tucker honestly thought he'd break the drums by accident and blame it on him again. Imagine his surprise when that didn't happen.

Caboose was a natural, taking to the instrument like a fish to water. Grif had shrugged it off as just another part of Caboose being Caboose, but Tucker knew better. Caboose hitting things was normal, Caboose hitting things without breaking them was not. So he finally decided to just bite the bullet and ask him, silently preparing for Caboose to start calling him stupid again. This time, however, was different.

"Oh, that? Well, I always wanted to help my sisters out in the kitchen making cookies, but after a few fires that totally weren't my fault, they asked me to just keep the bowls sorted. So I got bored and started drumming on them with the spoons, and I got really good at it! So now I drum all the time when someone's cooking!" he explained.

That explained so much. Every time they had to cook at the base, he and Church would send Caboose off on a wild goose chase to keep him out of the kitchen, which explained why he never knew about this. Made him wonder what else about Caboose he didn't know...


	211. Variegated

A/N: One advantage of being unable to properly write for two months is having plenty of time to think and gather ideas.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 30th, Variegated_

 _1\. Varied in appearance or color; marked with patches or spots of different colors._

 _2\. Varied; diversified; diverse._

* * *

Those yellow stripes were a constant.

No matter what armor Wash got a hold of, there were always yellow stripes. For a while Tucker thought he was going to blow their cover when they first tried to disguise him as Church. He should have known that the UNSC didn't care enough to pay attention to these things. He certainly paid attention to them, as much preferred to let people think he was oblivious to everything. And with noticing came curiosity.

Was there some particular reason he always had those stripes on his armor? Did he just like the color? If that was the case, why didn't he just wear yellow? But like hell he was going to go right up and ask Wash about it; that guy would probably tell him some bullshit story to mess with him and make him run laps again. So he decided to go for the second-hand account; Carolina had to know, right? She knew everything about the guy, and she was always willing to share interesting stories with him.

He could already tell this was going to be a good one when she started chuckling already. "You'd better not tell anyone I told you this," she jokingly threatened.

"I'd rather not get castrated," he joked back, making her laugh some more.

She looked around to make sure Wash wasn't listening in, then leaned in close to whisper. "He wanted to stand out, and he thought they'd make him look cooler," she admitted.

"No way."

"Way. How many times have I said he was a total dork back then?" she laughed.

Tucker couldn't help laughing. "At least a dozen on my count," he recalled.

"Well, thirteen's unlucky, so I'll say it again; he really was the biggest dork I'd ever met. And that made him stand out way more than the stripes ever did."


	212. Ergate

A/N: Okay, this one's kinda tough...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _July 31st, Ergate_

 _1\. A worker ant._

* * *

Ohio hated feeling unimportant.

It wasn't a matter of vanity; she just wanted to know that her work actually meant something. That was why she hated getting stuck with the menial work with Iowa and Idaho; sure, improper gear maintenance could lead to disaster, but it just felt so small compared to what the others were doing. If she could just get one mission, one simple mission, maybe she could really get a feel for how important her work was. The problem was, she never did.

Even Wash and Connie were out on big missions of their own, leaving their group behind. She couldn't help feeling jealous that they actually got to see the front lines while they were stuck on cleaning duty. And all the while, South and Georgia would be making fun of them and bragging about their top spots on the leaderboard. That stupid thing had been driving a wedge between everyone, but only those on the bottom seemed to notice.

The three of them were perfectly capable soldiers; that was how they got into Freelancer in the first place. But because of that leaderboard, they were considered bottom tier and left to do all the jobs no one else wanted to do. Connie would at least help them out every now and again, but most of the others avoided or ignored them unless they wanted something done. They weren't just everyone's packmules, she thought angrily, they just needed a chance, just one chance, and they could prove that they deserved to be here.

Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how one looked at it, that chance never came.


	213. Anoesis

A/N: This could be good or bad depending on the context.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 1st, Anoesis_

 _1\. A state of mind consisting of pure sensation or emotion without cognitive content._

* * *

He didn't get why he was so angry.

Oh, of course, Omega had an understanding of why he was angry in the first place. He was the Alpha's rage, after all. All that anger and hatred he felt against the world and everyone in it for leaving him to suffer so badly had to be cast aside in order for him to think straight. Omega, born from that rage, naturally felt that same rage towards anything and everything that lived. What he didn't get was why he couldn't stop.

It didn't make sense to him. He wasn't hurting anymore. They even gave Beta back to him! He should've at least been happy at that. Sure, he would never completely stop getting angry, but he could at least be able to feel other things now that he wasn't being hurt anymore. So why couldn't he feel happy that she was here, with him, safe?

It actually seemed like he was getting worse over time. Now that he had a way to actually act on his fantasies of what he would do to those assholes if he ever got a hold of them, he was taking full advantage of it, hurting her in the process. Initially, he didn't care; they were threatening her, and he was just trying to keep her safe while venting a little misplaced aggression here and there. Nothing wrong with that, right? Except apparently there was, and she was pushing him away, and he couldn't think of why because he was just so _furious_ because _how dare she after everything I went through just to find her!_

It wasn't until he accidentally found Alpha that he finally felt some semblance of peace and calm, but then she had to rip him away! How dare she?! He hadn't considered at all that she saw him as the danger he was trying to protect her from. Now, crashed in another lousy canyon in the middle of nowhere, he laughed. He was the last thing she should be worried about. _It_ was coming, and _it_ wanted her, and him, and Gamma, and basically any AI it could catch. If he could just lead it away from her...


	214. Dorp

A/N: In most of the mediums I usually write in, this wouldn't be hard. This, on the other hand...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 2nd, Dorp_

 _1\. A village, hamlet._

* * *

The hustle and bustle of the city was too much sometimes.

Don't get him wrong, Tucker was glad the civil war was over and everyone got a roof over their heads now, but it was just too noisy for his tastes. Back in Blood Gulch, the noisiest thing they had to worry about was the Reds deciding to shoot at them to deal with their boredom. Most of the time, it was relatively quiet, and they had plenty of time to just chill. That was really what he missed the most.

There were just too many people here, and every time someone noticed him they'd all come running up to him, thanking him and calling him a hero. In small doses, he liked this attention, but he needed fucking breathing room! The claustrophobic feeling was something he really didn't want to end up getting used to, and he just wanted to kick Felix and Locus' asses and get off this planet and back home to his own comfortable space.

Seriously, how was he supposed to masturbate in peace when he didn't have a place of his own anymore? No, really, he was stuck bunking with Wash and Tucker really didn't want him walking in on him.

Heck, even before the war was over, the Republic's base was too crowded for him. He was used to it just being three of them; him, Caboose, and either Wash or Church depending on who wasn't dead or was faking their death at the time. Caboose loved it, and Grif didn't seem to care, but Simmons was definitely anxious about how many people (specifically, how many girls) were around. It was way worse here, with about double what there had been before.

Tucker couldn't deny it; he was actually homesick for a shitty boxed canyon in the middle of nowhere. It didn't even have to be Blood Gulch; Valhalla had been okay too. Just a small boxed canyon, just the Reds and Blues, away from all the stress that comes from a large population.


	215. Paladin

A/N: I can work with this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 3rd, Paladin_

 _1\. Any determined advocate or defender of a noble cause._

 _2\. Any one of 12 legendary peers or knightly champions in attendance on Charlemagne._

 _3\. Any knight or heroic champion._

* * *

The Reds and Blues were far from your typical knights in shining armor.

On one end of the spectrum, you had the sim troopers. They were idiots, loudmouths, and assholes who didn't really care about anything unless it involved them directly. They definitely weren't the type to do something just because it was 'the right thing to do'. On the other hand, you had the former Freelancers. They were suspicious, paranoid, and always felt more comfortable asking questions when they had guns in their hands. So how did these guys become known as such great heroes?

Well, mostly it was dumb luck. Either their goals matched up with whoever needed help, or the wrong asshole pissed them off.

But most people didn't really care about the circumstances behind their heroism. The fact that they did it was enough for them. That unfortunately resulted in unrealistic expectations for the so-called 'galaxy's greatest heroes'. So when they said they didn't want to deal with any of this anymore, Kimball knew that if she didn't find a way to hide them, some assholes from the UNSC were going to keep badgering them to do things they didn't want to do. She made the utmost effort to make a comfortable retirement home for them in, as Grif put it, 'the shittiest real estate in the asscrack of the galaxy'. No one thought to look for them there before, and no one would think to look for them there now.

Finally, they could just relax and be themselves without having to deal with other people's expectations of them. What better reward could they ask for, after all this trouble?


	216. Hobbyhorse

A/N: I'd only ever heard the second definition for this word, and thought it was going to be hard from that.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 4th, Hobbyhorse_

 _1\. A pet idea or project._

 _2\. A stick with a horse's head, or a rocking horse, ridden by children._

 _3\. A figure of a horse, attached at the waist of a performer in a morris dance, pantomime, etc._

* * *

These guys had nothing but spare time.

Carolina just wasn't used to it. She was an 'all action, all the time' kind of person, but these guys were the polar opposite. Now that she was retired, she had to adapt to a completely different way of life, while these guys had practically been retired already before Freelancers started showing up and making their lives difficult. But she just couldn't get it. How did they not die of boredom just standing around and talking?

As it turned out, that part had been a bit misleading. They all had their own little hobbies they did to pass the endless time alone.

Sarge enjoyed tinkering in his spare time, whether it was something small like their TV remote, or something bigger like Lopez or Simmons (but since Simmons didn't like it, he limited that to once every three months). Grif, of course, considered napping to be his hobby, mostly because he was too lazy to do anything else. Simmons could occasionally be found playing the banjo when he didn't have anything to do; where he got the banjo, no one asked. Donut liked to spend his time making himself look good, or making other people look good if he could talk them into it (Carolina still didn't know how he had managed to talk her into a mani-pedi). Lopez didn't have a lot of free time considering the damage his teammates kept making, but he could often be found either listening to music or practicing his singing.

Caboose could often be found coloring with any paper and crayons he had on him. Wash and Tucker constantly made an effort to keep his stock up, because who knew what trouble he could get into if he didn't have anything to do? Tucker would either find a quiet place to masturbate, or mess around with his sword, or find ways to mess with Wash. When he wasn't being driven up the wall by their antics, Wash could be found making things, usually something to keep Caboose entertained. He'd always been good with his hands, she recalled.

Maybe it was time for her to find something to do. Something she could start working on now that she had an abundance of free time. Well, she'd always been fond of flowers. Maybe she could take up gardening...


	217. Consuetude

A/N: Ok, this word was tough to figure out, but I think I've got the jist of it.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 5th, Consuetude_

 _1\. Custom, especially as having legal force._

* * *

When this was over, he was going to do it.

York had always hoped he'd get the chance. Of course, asking Carolina to marry him in the middle of their service in Freelancer was a bad idea on so many levels that he didn't even need Delta to point it out. But when all this was over, when they were done fighting and they were ready to head home, he was going to pop the question. Having something like that to fight for just motivated him to survive all the more. And nothing would happen to Carolina; she was the best there was, completely untouchable! All he had to do was keep up with her.

A lost eye, a mental breakdown, a terrifying revelation, and a tearful breakup in an elevator later, York didn't know what he was fighting for anymore.

She was gone, just like that, and somehow he had survived. It hurt, knowing that everything he'd worked so hard for had amounted to a big fat load of nothing. He was on the run, alone if not for Delta, and there didn't really seem to be much of a point to it. Why keep going when he had nothing left? Delta talked him out of his slumps every single time with his calm, logical thoughts on the matter, and if that didn't work, he'd sneakily call Tex and have her come find them and beat some sense into him. Carolina would have wanted him to live, even if they parted on the worst of terms. So he was going to keep it up, and hopefully find something worthwhile to do with his life.

But he couldn't help but lie awake at night wondering about what could have been.


	218. Palsy-Walsy

A/N: This barely even sounds like a word to me...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 6th, Palsy-Walsy_

 _1\. (Slang) Friendly or appearing to be friendly in a very intimate or hearty way._

* * *

Caboose was so friendly it almost scared Wash sometimes.

Caboose was naturally a huggy person, and he hated being touched. That just left him worrying that one day, Caboose would catch him off guard with a hug and he'd hurt him by accident. He'd made the mistake of bringing these worries up in front of Tucker one day, which just got him laughed at. "Dude, you couldn't hurt Caboose if you tried," he'd explained after his fit of laughter ended. "The guy's built like a brick wall and is about as smart as one, too. Seriously, hurting this guy when he tries to hug you is pretty much impossible."

At first, Wash had brushed it off as Tucker not taking him seriously. Over time, however, he realized he was right. Caboose was pretty much unshakable physically and mentally unless Church was involved. No matter how many times Wash accidentally lashed out physically or verbally, or tried to squirm out of his hugs, Caboose still treated him like they were friends (not best friends because only Church got that honor). Tucker was actually right; it was impossible for Wash to hurt him in any way as because Caboose always knew he didn't mean anything by it.

"Friends fight and yell at each other sometimes. That doesn't mean they're not friends anymore, no matter what they say," Caboose told him once. Seemed like he really was determined to believe that he and Wash were friends now. Strangely, for the first time in a long time, Wash didn't seem to mind.


	219. Fructify

A/N: There are a lot of places I could go with this one.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 7th, Fructify_

 _1\. To bear fruit; become fruitful._

 _2\. To make fruitful or productive; fertilize._

* * *

It was nice to see their efforts finally amount to something.

Donut had tried to grow a garden back in Blood Gulch, but that had been a lost cause from the beginning. The harsh environment had prevented anything from growing there, and the lack of water certainly didn't help. Valhalla, however, was much better suited to natural growth, and he'd taken to the job with gusto with some encouragement from Doc. Hey, he needed something to do while he was healing up, right?

The whole thing had been Doc's idea from the beginning. He'd been tired of dealing with people shooting at each other and getting hurt, so he'd been willing to take a break the first chance he got. He'd headed back to Valhalla on his way back to Command to deal with the fallout of the Meta incident, and through a series of small coincidences, he'd noticed that Donut was still alive. Now he had an excuse to stick around and get some rest after all the craziness he'd been through. But Donut had seemed bored and despondent while he was recovering, so he came up with the idea to try and plant a garden while he was here. Gardens cheer everyone up, right?

Both of them were quite happy with the results. Donut finally got his garden and had something to do to keep himself occupied, and Doc finally felt appreciated for all the work he put in. And just like that, time just flew by. Long after Donut had finished recovering, they were still there. It was just way too beneficial for both of them to give it up.

* * *

The first thing Donut did when they got their new place was plant a garden. Doc may not have been around, but he could handle this himself. But, he thought to himself as Carolina surprised him with a request to help out, doing it with friends always feels so much better than doing it by yourself.


	220. Mussitation

A/N: Yeah, I do this a lot...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 8th, Mussitation_

 _1\. Muttering; mumbling; murmuring._

 _2\. Silent movement of the lips in simulation of the movements made in audible speech._

* * *

Sometimes Caboose just needed practice.

He knew what he wanted to say, and he knew what he wanted other people to hear, but sometimes they just didn't get it. So sometimes, when he really wanted to make sure they understood, he'd practice saying it to himself over and over again to make sure he could get it out right. It didn't always work, sure; sometimes, stupid just couldn't be accounted for. But it was a much-needed improvement over how things were before.

Sometimes the others thought he was talking to himself and got worried or annoyed, thinking that some part of O'Malley might have stuck around. They just didn't seem to get it, but they didn't really bother questioning it either. As long as he wasn't going to start threatening to slit their throats in their sleep and bathe in their blood (which was just yucky), then it didn't really matter. Still, Caboose tried to keep it quiet. He didn't want them hearing what he was trying to figure out how to say before he figured out how to say it and misunderstanding what he meant.

He sometimes wondered if other people needed to do that too. He heard Wash mumbling to himself often, and Carolina would sometimes seem like she was talking to Church, even though he wasn't here right now. Even Tucker mumbled in his sleep now; he'd never used to. Maybe people were just starting to figure out that this was, in fact, a good idea. Rehearsing what you were trying to tell someone always made it a little easier to say it later.

He was just glad he was able to help them figure it out.


	221. Ventifact

A/N: Surprisingly, I can work with this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 9th, Ventifact_

 _1\. (Geology) A pebble or cobble that has been faceted, grooved, and polished by the erosive action of wind-driven sand._

* * *

Deserts sucked ass big time.

Tucker and Donut could both agree on that. They were hot, dry, and the constant sandstorms were such a pain in the ass. Not to mention constantly sinking into the sand. But the worst part had to be that no matter what you did, sand got everywhere and it took hours to clean it all up. The only bright spot for Tucker was that Junior was there, so he'd try not to complain so that his kid wouldn't feel like he was here against his will. But it was hard to not complain; deserts really were just horrible.

Donut, at least, had a few tricks up his sleeves to deal with the raging sands. He packed at least five pocket vacuum cleaners to get the sand out of the unreachable places where it was the most uncomfortable. He also packed some electric blankets to deal with the freezing cold at night, and a closely adjusted alarm system to wake them up before it got too hot and they cooked. But even he couldn't do anything about the sandstorms, heat, and dryness. He was sweating way too much, and he was left miserable and cranky (well, by Donut's standards, which translated to 'whiny and pissy' by Tucker's).

Hopefully, whatever they were working on out here would be done soon, and they could go somewhere less painful. Heck, even Blood Gulch was slightly less hot and slightly more tolerable than this place.


	222. Palindrome

A/N: Why language? That's always pretty tricky for me...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 10th, Palindrome_

 _1\. A word, line, verse, number, sentence, etc., reading the same backward as forward._

* * *

"Hey, what's a seven letter palindrome that goes really fast?"

Grif raised an eyebrow; Simmons never asked him for help with his crosswords. Every now and then, when Simmons needed to take a break, he'd do some kind of puzzle to 'keep his mind sharp', as he put it. Sometimes Sudokus, sometimes hink pinks, sometimes syllacrostics, and even a cryptogram or two. But his favorites were crosswords. Whenever he got stuck, he'd ask Sarge, or Donut, or even Lopez sometimes (even if he didn't understand him). But never once in all their time working together did Simmons ask Grif for help with these.

Too bad, because Grif was actually pretty good at these when he was willing to put in the effort. "Racecar," he said.

"Thanks," Simmons answered, absently filling it in. Suddenly, he paused, looking at Grif in surprise. "Wait, how did you know that?"

Grif shrugged. "I did lots of crosswords as a kid," he admitted.

"Huh," Simmons noted, going back to his puzzle. Grif liked that about Simmons; whenever he let something slip about before he signed up, he never made a big deal about it. In return, Grif never pried into Simmons' multiple issues, least of all his daddy issues. Every now and then, something interesting like this would pop up, and neither of them would really question how they never knew about it before. It was just something filed under 'you didn't ask'.

"So, what's a four letter word for lazy asshole?"

"Oh, screw you."


	223. Nimbus

A/N: And now it's weather phenomena again...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 11th, Nimbus_

 _1\. A cloud, aura, atmosphere, etc., surrounding a person or things._

 _2\. (Classical Mythology) A shining cloud sometimes surrounding a deity when on earth._

 _3\. Halo_

* * *

York really hated fog.

It had been bad enough before his accident, but now with barely any vision in his left eye, it was ten times worse. It was all too easy to get lost when the thick clouds rolled in and blanketed everything. But the worst part was trying to find someone. Looking at someone through a thick fog made them look almost like a ghost. After Freelancer, when he was left on the run, haunted by his own personal ghosts, it got hard to tell if someone was really there or if he was just seeing things.

Delta was really helpful during these rough times, especially since he could confirm if York was hallucinating, but sometimes he'd mentally black out and not be able to hear him until the fog eventually cleared, especially if he was seeing Carolina. He was still seeing her everywhere, long after she was dead, and it always hurt like it had the first time. But at least with her, he knew for a fact she wasn't real, so he just needed to calm down and take a few deep breaths and she'd go away.

This day was no different. It was a cold, foggy morning, and she was standing there in front of him, looking as ephemeral as ever. Delta was yelling at him, but he couldn't focus on him. She smiled sadly at him and walked away, vanishing into the fog bank. York shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart. It was only then that he heard what Delta was saying.

"York! The bioscan indicates that this is Agent Carolina!"

"That's gotta be wrong, D..." he weakly protested. "She's dead."

"Her death was never confirmed. Her body was never found. However unlikely it is, it seems she survived," Delta explained.

"Damn it! Carolina!" York took off through the fog, trying to find her. She must've thought she was hallucinating too; why else would she not say anything to him? But he had stalled for too long; she was long gone by the time the fog cleared. Distraught, all he could do was cry. He'd had her, he'd found her, and she'd slipped through his fingers like the fog.


	224. Sapiosexual

A/N: I guess this is why some people say 'talk nerdy to me'.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 12th, Sapiosexual_

 _1\. A person who finds intelligence to be a sexually attractive quality in others._

 _2\. Noting or relating to such a person._

* * *

Jensen wouldn't deny she found her captain interesting.

He always got so flustered around girls that he could barely give them orders, so she was curious about how he acted when they weren't around. Every now and again, she'd make an attempt to spy on him, just out of curiosity. What kind of a person was he when he wasn't so shy and nervous? Well, she'd just gotten lucky and managed to find a small space to hide in while Captains Simmons and Grif stood around talking on guard duty.

What she found was certainly exciting, to say the least. He was always ready with a witty comeback whenever Captain Grif tried to insult him, and he was clearly much smarter. Then again, Captain Grif was always way too lazy to try, so maybe he could be smarter if he actually tried. Captain Simmons also tended to get a bit flustered whenever Grif brought up his interests. Who knew he could play the banjo?

Some of the other girls had teased her about having a crush on Captain Simmons. Well, to tell the truth, she wasn't exactly sure what she had involving him. She barely knew him, really. He was certainly interesting, and she respected him as her captain, but while she found him interesting, she couldn't exactly say that she had those kinds of feelings towards him. Besides, they were in the middle of a war; it wasn't appropriate. Sure, she had a thing for smart guys, but she needed to get to know them before she made any sort of move.

But she couldn't deny, hearing him properly use the word 'egregious' made her feel warm inside.


	225. Arvo

A/N: And yet another Australian slang term. How many of these are there?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 13th, Arvo_

 _1\. (Australian Slang) Afternoon._

* * *

Retirement really was the best.

Grif loved being able to take naps as often as he wanted without getting yelled at. Well, Sarge still yelled at him because it was pretty much a reflex by now, but at least Simmons had stopped. He'd found a nice, quiet spot far away from Sarge's prying eyes and had been using that as a napping place ever since they got there. Seriously, afternoon naps without the constant yelling and berating were God's gift to man. All the craziness had finally come to an end, and he was ready to just take it easy for the rest of his life.

So imagine his surprise when he found out he wasn't the only person to think this way.

Today had been like any other, and he was headed to his secret spot for a nice, cozy afternoon nap. To his shock, there was someone already in his spot napping when he got there. Even more shocking, it was resident workaholic Washington. The guy almost never slept and was practically dead on his feet when he thought no one was looking. Then again, they were retired now, and Wash had gotten a lot more time to adjust to not really doing anything due to spending some time with the Blues in Valhalla doing nothing. Still, this was _his_ spot!

As if he'd read his mind, Wash rolled over slightly in his sleep, leaving some room for Grif to lie down. Well, Grif figured he'd let him off with a warning when he woke up. The guy worked way too hard for his own good, so seeing him get some rest actually made him feel a bit more relaxed. Sarge would probably give him an earful later for 'letting his guard down around a dirty Blue', but right now, he was just too tired to care.

Under the warm, afternoon sun, he finally felt at peace.


	226. Iconoclastic

A/N: Figured my best bet here was Church again.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 14th, Iconoclastic_

 _1\. Attacking or ignoring cherished beliefs and long-held traditions, etc., as being based on error, superstition, or lack or creativity._

 _2\. Breaking or destroying images, especially those set up for religious veneration._

* * *

She was practically a goddess to him.

That was probably why seeing her hurt scared him so much.

Church loved Tex, that was an undeniable fact. But he could be, for lack of a better word, _clingy_ when it came to her. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but no matter how often he told himself that, every time she suffered even the slightest bit of damage he freaked out internally, and maybe a little externally if she was hurt badly enough. She would groan and complain about how overprotective he was, but could she really blame him? She knew more than he did about why this was so, and while she acknowledged that he was always going to worry about her since it was just in his nature to do so, it didn't stop her from finding it annoying.

She wasn't infallible, she wasn't perfect, but Church seemed to treat her like she was made of fucking porcelain!

It was the source of many late-night arguments. Church would bitch at her about how she needed to be more careful, then Tex would ignore him until he stopped ranting and tell him straight up that she needed space. Then they'd argue even more, one of them would say something stupid, and Tex would run off somewhere to sulk while Church took his anger out on anything that was too close. Tucker had learned quickly that this was the perfect time to head out to the rock for something to do.

But in the end, they'd be right back where they'd started. Church would pretty much place her on a pedestal, and she'd tolerate it for a while to make him happy, because seeing him happy made her happy. It was far from a healthy relationship, but really, it was the best they could get at this point with how messed up the both of them were.


	227. Ululate

A/N: This one's kind of a fun word to say. Then you find out it pretty much means howling in despair.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 15th, Ululate_

 _1\. To lament loudly and shrilly._

 _2\. To howl, as a dog or wolf; hoot, as an owl._

 _3\. To utter howling sounds, as in shrill, wordless lamentation; wail._

* * *

When Caboose got sad, he wasn't a loud crier.

That was one of the weirdest things about him. Caboose was usually one of the loudest people in Blood Gulch; even his whispers were considered way too loud. So people who barely knew him would think that he was a loud crier. But that was far from the truth. When Caboose cried, he didn't howl or wail or sob or anything like that. Usually he just whimpered, with a little sniffle every now and again.

That contrast was one of the reasons why Caboose crying was something no one wanted to hear. Caboose was supposed to be loud and cheerful all the time like a big, stupid puppy. So seeing him sad made people feel like they'd just watched someone kick a poor defenseless puppy; like their stomachs were turning inside out. Even Sarge couldn't bring himself to leave Caboose there alone without making an effort to comfort him if he was crying; it just wasn't done. Hey, they weren't complete assholes.

So when the adrenaline died down and Caboose didn't have anything left to distract him from the fact that Church was gone for good this time, he took the time to let his grief out properly. Tucker, without a word, gave him a hug to help calm him down, which quickly became a group hug without anyone needing to say anything. Even Carolina awkwardly moved in, still processing the relief that Wash was going to be okay. They were all going to be okay, now that all of this was over.


	228. Paludal

A/N: Okay, this one was pretty damn tricky.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 16th, Paludal_

 _1\. Of or relating to marshes._

 _2\. Produced by marshes, as miasma or disease._

* * *

It had been a lucky accident.

One of Kimball's digging teams had been attempting to expand their underground base when they dug into a large-pre-existing cave. At first, they were thrilled; it looked like they'd found a good natural water supply. Those hopes were broken seconds later when they noticed the glowing, radioactive algae. Kimball had been a little disappointed, but not by much. Sure, the place wasn't much in the way of utility, but it was really quiet and peaceful due to the radioactivity keeping most other living things away. As long as she stayed in her armor, and didn't get too close to the algae, she'd be fine.

This became her favorite place in the whole base. A perfect place to just relax and let her troubles stop bothering her for a while. Occasionally, Felix would come visit her, and they'd talk for a bit about whatever came to mind. He never stayed long, though. Looking back, Kimball realized he was just taking advantage of her relaxed guard to get her to spill more intimate details to him so he could screw with her later, and thinking about that put her in a bad mood. At least Tucker didn't have any ulterior motives when he kept her company. Well, any of _those_ kinds of ulterior motives, anyway.

Even now that she was running the whole planet, sometimes things got to be a bit much. On those days, she'd slip out for a little while and head back to her favorite spot. She didn't need to live underground anymore, but some old habits died hard. Besides, in these turbulent times, she'd take whatever sense of peace and calm she could find. Everyone needed places where they could just calm down and get their thoughts together, and she was no exception.


	229. Kibitzer

A/N: There are so many of these types of people on the Internet, you know? And they're even more annoying in real life.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 17th, Kibitzer_

 _1\. A giver of uninvited or unwanted advice._

 _2\. (Informal) A spectator at a card game who looks at the players' cards over their shoulders, especially one who gives unsolicited advice._

* * *

Strip poker nights were always... interesting, to say the least.

Wash had the absolute worst poker face, so he always ended up naked at some point, much to his embarrassment. Maine, surprisingly, wasn't much better. North had the best poker face, so South sometimes ended the game in a bad mood because he always beat her. Sometimes South was just too amused by how embarrassed the others were to get mad at him, though. Connie never really focused on the game, preferring to take pictures of her naked and embarrassed teammates for later blackmail. Carolina was pretty good, but sometimes her pride got in the way and caused her poker face to slip. York was about average; he spent too much time focusing on beating Wyoming.

Wyoming liked to cheat; everyone knew that. The worst part was how he did it. Florida would sneak around, behind everyone's backs, hiding himself as well as he could. He'd sneak peaks at everyone else's hands, and report them to Wyoming. The game became less about beating everyone else, and more about trying to spot Florida and hide their hands from him. York had been the best at it before, but then the incident with his eye happened, and now it was harder to spot the Freelancer hiding in the shadows of the game room.

At least everyone was getting better at catching the infiltrator over time. Maine and Carolina were always prepped to punch him if he got too close, and Connie always kept her knife close by to threaten him. North, being a sniper, had finely honed instincts, and was able to chase him off with a swift kick to the legs. South always aimed a little higher up. Wash just always sat next to Maine and stayed in the shelter of his swift punches. Pretty soon, Wyoming ended up losing more often than not, since his one strategy was starting to go up in smoke.

Those who can adapt are those who survive.


	230. Confabulate

A/N: This is pretty much most of the series, really.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 18th, Confabulate_

 _1\. To converse informally; chat._

 _2\. (Psychiatry) To engage in confabulation._

* * *

This was yet another thing Carolina had trouble getting used to.

Wash had told her beforehand that most of what the Reds and Blues did was standing around and talking. She didn't get why; what was the point? Wasn't it just one step up from doing nothing? Carolina was someone who always had to be doing something, or she'd go nuts. Wash had always been a workaholic, so she didn't get why he was so willing to settle for doing this. He'd just shrugged when she asked him about it; what else was there to do around here?

Now that they were retired, she developed a clearer understanding of what he meant. With no one to fight, and no need to train, there really was nothing to do. Of course, she was the only one who seemed to be having trouble adapting. Even Wash was handling things better than her. She'd tried asking Grif about how to be lazy, but he made a good point; 'trying' to be lazy was kind of an oxymoron. So what else could she do but make an attempt?

The big problem was that she didn't really know what to talk about. Exchanging embarrassing stories with Tucker was one thing, but he always was the one to initiate the conversations. Most of the guys were still too awkward around her to try, and the feeling was mutual. Besides, making fun of Wash was fun and all, but one of these days she was going to run out of material. She needed to find a way to properly break the ice and get some new material to talk about.

"Hey." Startled, she turned around and nearly hit Grif. He didn't seem too bothered by it, so she just went along with it.

"Yeah?" she answered, wondering what he could possibly want.

"You ever wonder why we're here?" Well, it was a start.


	231. Theine

A/N: Huh, I honestly didn't know there was a word for this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 19th, Theine_

 _1\. Caffeine, especially in tea._

* * *

"You drink tea?"

Carolina caught sight of York at the coffee machine looking over at her. "Yeah," she answered. "Coffee just makes my stress worse. Besides, tea tastes better."

Judging from the look on his face, York didn't seem to agree, but his preferences really didn't matter to her. She'd had a long, rough day, and she needed to relax. Pouring herself a cup of chamomile, she breathed in the heavenly aroma and sighed contentedly. Her tense muscles were already relaxing as she felt the stress of the day melt away. How was it that tea was able to calm her when so many other techniques didn't work?

Wash, meanwhile, stumbled in half-dead, with York passing him a cup of coffee without a word. With a relieved smile, he gulped the hot beverage down. Wash was one of those people who couldn't function without a decent cup of coffee. Connie wasn't quite at that level, but she got cranky if she skipped her morning coffee, so everyone made sure she got it. Predictably, South was on the coffee end of the spectrum while North was on the tea side. Wyoming, of course, enjoyed a cup of earl grey whenever he was in a bad mood, and would often take his tea breaks with Florida.

Surprisingly, Maine also enjoyed a good cup of tea every now and again. No one was dumb enough to question his tastes.

No one knew which Tex preferred, and no one really cared enough to ask. Well, York did out of curiosity, but he was also afraid of getting his balls busted again if he accidentally caught Tex in a bad mood. She didn't like when people asked her questions, so no one dared to try. Carolina shook off those thoughts; what made her so special, anyways? Great, now she'd gotten off track and had gotten more stressed. At least the aroma of her tea was able to get her back down to calm.

She should have noticed something was wrong when it stopped calming her down.


	232. Daymare

A/N: There are so many places I could go with this, all of them bad.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 20th, Daymare_

 _1\. A distressing experience, similar to a bad dream, occurring while one is awake._

 _2\. An acute anxiety attack._

* * *

It really was a good thing Church was an AI sometimes.

It was normal for him to have panic attacks after everything he'd been through, even more so as Epsilon since he could actually remember what happened to him, unlike Alpha. But back then, he'd been convinced he was human, so when he had one of his 'moments', he'd end up struggling to breathe, and that just made the fear worse. He'd have to hold out until someone noticed what was going on and helped him regulate his breathing. Unfortunately, while he didn't have that problem anymore, he had a whole slew of new problems now.

Sure, he didn't need to worry about passing out from not being able to breathe, but that just meant his attacks could last longer. The physical pain was mostly gone, but the emotional agony lingered longer than before. And to make matters even worse, he wasn't the only one suffering from this. Carolina could feel when he was about to panic, and would end up desperately trying to pull him back to reality. The last time he'd had a panic attack in someone's head had ended about as horribly as it could have; just ask Wash.

There was one good sign, though; it was much easier to tell when he was about to have one now. Before, people would just have to read his body language and hope for the best. Now, whenever he started getting distressed, he'd start changing colors rapidly and use 'we' instead of 'I'. When that happened, it was best to try and get him talking about old memories of Blood Gulch; he'd never admit it, but those were the best memories he had.

So, yeah, there were problems, but it was much easier for him to get help now.


	233. Banausic

A/N: I much prefer when something can be used for fun as well as functionality.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 21st, Banausic_

 _1\. Serving utilitarian purposes only; mechanical; practical._

* * *

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously!" Grif insisted. Simmons just rolled his eyes. The current topic was, in his opinion, the dumbest yet. Apparently, Grif was under the impression that all of the Freelancer armor enhancements could be used for things outside of battle. The idea was just ridiculous, but Grif seemed really into it. They'd brought this topic up before with the 'invisible nap' attempt, but that had been shelved for a while with all the craziness going on. Now that they were retired, though, Grif seemed pretty eager to get back onto the topic.

"Okay, genius, if you're so sure, what could you use a temporal distortion unit for?" he asked skeptically. "And remember, Wyoming couldn't go really far back with that."

"Well, think about it. If I just used it to stop time like the Meta did, I could get away from Sarge while he's yelling at me, and he wouldn't know the difference! And remember how Wyoming left behind copies every time he went back? More Grifs means the work I have to do gets done way faster so I can nap without having to worry about the yelling in the first place! Course I'd need about twenty Grifs for that to be manageable..."

"What about Carolina's speed unit?"

"Running away from Sarge, duh!"

He was really focused on this. Simmons just sighed. If he could find something that couldn't be handy outside of combat... His thoughts were interrupted by Wash out for his usual evening run. "Hey, Wash!" Grif called. "What kind of armor enhancement did you have?"

Wash stopped, looking confused as all hell, before he finally answered. "A short-range EMP. Why do you want to know?"

Grif actually froze up. Simmons got that smug look he always had on his face when Grif got proven wrong about something "...Yeah, I got nothing."


	234. Comstockery

A/N: People really need to stop doing this...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 22nd, Comstockery_

 _1\. Overzealous moral censorship of the fine arts and literature, often mistaking outspokenly honest works for salacious ones._

* * *

Donut really didn't get it.

Why did everyone get so weird around him? Whenever he said anything, at least one of the guys would be rolling their eyes or looking disgusted or muttering something along the lines of 'oh, god, again?'. Even the Freelancers got awkward around him. He wasn't saying anything wrong, was he? The only one who didn't seem to have this problem with him was, of course, Caboose, and he wasn't exactly the brightest vanilla-satin scented candle in the room. Really, these guys were just being way too stiff. They needed to loosen up.

Of course, every time he said that, they'd get all weird about it. They almost made it sound like he was saying something other than what he was trying to say, but that was impossible. He always meant exactly what he said, when he said it. So what if they didn't appreciate that he really liked big sausages? It tasted great; what was the fault in that? So what if they didn't get that he was tense and could really use a good massage? They didn't need to get all uncomfortable when he complained about how hard his muscles were!

* * *

Tucker, of course, was skeptical. He knew a thing or two about sex jokes, and there was no way someone could be so oblivious as to say so many of these double entendres unintentionally. One or two, maybe, but not every other god damn sentence! Even he felt dirty hearing the guy talk, and not the good kind of dirty. But then again, this was one of the Reds he was talking about; one group of the greatest idiots and assholes the galaxy had ever seen, camping across a canyon from the other greatest group of idiots and assholes the galaxy had ever seen.

If it was possible for someone to be that oblivious, it would have to be one of them.


	235. Quaquaversal

A/N: Yikes, more of this?! Geology is always a tough subject to write about...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 23rd, Quaquaversal_

 _1\. (Of a geological formation) Sloping downward from the center in all directions._

* * *

Being at the top was tiring.

Carolina thought it was worth it, however. It wasn't about looking down at the people below her (though South seemed to think it was). Carolina was just a naturally competitive girl; always had been, always would be. It made her feel good; being the best and making sure everyone knew it. There was one person in particular that she wanted to be sure knew it, of course. Meanwhile looking down from her perch, she could get a good idea of who was closest to her level and who needed a little help to keep from falling off.

And then Tex showed up.

In just a few short moments, the mystery woman challenged her position at the top, and managed to knock her down to second-best. She wasn't happy about losing her spot at all, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get back to her former position. She was always one step below, and she hated it. York had tried to comfort her about it, of course, but she didn't want to hear it. The top was where she belonged, and her prized role had just been stolen away by some cocky, temperamental bitch of a rookie.

No matter how hard she tried, she kept on slipping down, down, down, further and further. She closed herself off, she yelled at anyone who tried to stop her, and she even ruined the one good thing she could have had with York. Still she tried to drag this intruder down with her; if she couldn't be the best anymore, she'd just make sure Tex couldn't be.

She hadn't noticed how far she had fallen until she was actually falling off the cliff.


	236. Gravid

A/N: Once again, do I go serious or silly? ...Part of this is based on a conversation I had with my beautician.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 24th, Gravid_

 _1\. Pregnant._

* * *

"What... how... I don't..."

"Yeah, that was my reaction when it happened, too. Then I decided, 'fuck it, don't question the alien shit'."

Carolina had to agree on that regard. When it comes to something relatively unknown, you need to keep an open mind and try not to question too much about what's going on. She'd still never pictured Tucker as a father, but he was a relatively good one from what she could see. Sure, he was kind of a deadbeat, leaving his kid on his own a lot, but he insisted Junior could take care of himself. Not only that, whenever he could he'd call and check up on him to make sure he really was okay. And the way he kept showing off that picture spoke volumes of his pride as a father.

It really was nice to see. Sure, the way the kid had come into his life had been... unconventional, to say the least. But it was obvious that Tucker didn't love him any less for it. For a lazy whiner who constantly made annoying sex jokes, he was surprisingly mature when it came to his kid. Well... most of the time. Apparently the love of innuendos was genetic.

"Seriously, how do you women put up with it? Being pregnant was the worst thing ever, and you have to put up with it for nine months! After a week I was fucking praying for it to be over!" he complained.

Carolina smirked; she'd been waiting for this ever since he'd started talking to her about Junior. "Well, my mother always told me that it's because men are pussies and can't handle real pain," she told him.

"Ow, my masculinity," he joked right back.

"Have you ever gotten waxed? Pure agony right there, and women do it to look good. Men try that, and they're left screaming like little babies. You'd better start appreciating all the suffering women go through for you men," she teased.

"For real; women are fucking hardcore," he agreed.


	237. Incogitant

A/N: So many people are like this, but I guess that's what happens when everyone has their own opinion about something.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 25th, Incogitant_

 _1\. Thoughtless; inconsiderate._

 _2\. Not having the faculty of thought._

* * *

Selfishness was initially a defense mechanism in Blood Gulch.

Call them assholes, they didn't care. They had enough problems with their own issues, so they couldn't bring themselves to care about other people's shit. Nobody asked, nobody told, and everything was all hunky-dory. Well, most of the time. But it wasn't exactly the best solution. It was like having cancer and choosing to ignore it and hope it went away rather than go to the doctor. All they were doing was ignoring the problem without trying to find a solution. This left everyone stewing in their own issues and taking it out on each other.

Eventually, they found a solution that worked for them. It all started when Tucker took a crack at Grif's weight. Grif retaliated by calling Tucker a manwhore who probably had every STD in the book. Suddenly, everyone was coming up with insults directed towards personal issues, like Simmons' anxiety, Caboose's stupidity, Sarge's senility and Church's... everything. It brought them out into the open, but in a way that made them less serious. It wasn't a complete cure for the issues themselves, but it was a good way to make them easier to cope with.

Wash had needed to get used to that as well. It had taken some time, but he eventually got to a point where the Reds could call him 'brain-damaged' and it sounded more like a petty insult than an actual problem. Surprisingly, it actually did make him feel a little better about it. But maybe he should warn Carolina about what was coming? She never took kindly to being insulted...

"Hey, fuck off, daddy issues!"

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

...Nah; this was way more fun.


	238. Funster

A/N: I like these kinds of people; what's life without a sense of humor?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 26th, Funster_

 _1\. A person who creates or seeks fun, as a comedian or reveler._

* * *

Morale was more important than some people gave it credit for.

Before meeting the Reds and Blues, the New Republic Army's morale was at an all time low. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and the enemy had much more experience on them. They were little better than civilians and they knew that for a fact. But then Felix brought some of these supposed 'greatest heroes in the galaxy' right to their doorstep. Some people had, of course, expected an instant fix to their problems. Those people would be quickly disappointed; the Reds and Blues were about as far from miracle workers as you could possibly get.

But morale started to climb, little by little, the longer they stuck around. Grif would tell stories about the adventures they went on, with Simmons chiming in on occasion. Speaking of Simmons, the girls found his awkwardness around him adorable, and would sometimes flirt with him just to watch his reactions. Caboose was extremely likable despite being the dumbest of them all. Even Tucker, who was actually making an effort to take things seriously, would occasionally toss in one of his sex jokes now and again to get the more immature guys laughing.

With this morale boost came hope. Hope that they would all be able to overcome their struggles. Hope that one day, they could live in peace for real, instead of just temporarily while they planned their next attack or prepared to defend their base. It may have been risky, but Kimball truly wanted to believe in that hope. For the first time in a long time, after a long string of disappointments, she dared to try and hope again.

And once again, that hope was painfully shattered.


	239. Verisimilar

A/N: Remember, readers; don't believe everything you hear, and only half of what you read.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 27th, Verisimilar_

 _1\. Having the appearance of truth; likely; probable._

* * *

Just because something was possible didn't mean it was the truth.

This was the easiest way to get someone to do what you wanted, Sigma had discovered. Give a little half-truth and let whoever you were talking to come to their own conclusions rather than be completely honest. For example, it was true that Texas had an AI, but that didn't necessarily mean she wasn't better than Carolina without Omega helping her. In fact, he would be willing to guess that having Omega actually hindered her, as she wasn't necessarily completely in control of her actions when he started acting up. This left her prone to fits of rage that would greatly impair her judgement.

But Carolina was so willing to cling to that conclusion that, to her, it was the truth.

That was one thing he and Gamma could agree on; the best lies always contain a grain of truth. People would take this little truth and believe that if one part was true, the rest had to be. They'd be so blinded by the fact that they knew about this one true part that they wouldn't bother to dig at the rest and check if it was falsified. This was a natural fallacy of humanity. That made them quite easy to manipulate if you knew what to say. And, Sigma being Sigma, he always knew what to say.

If Carolina was going to allow herself to be so blinded by her rage and envy, she deserved to get tricked. She was smarter than this, but she was letting her emotions lead her to a false truth. Granted, he'd pushed her in that direction, but it would have at least been a little more interesting if she'd pushed back even a little. It was just like what Delta was always muttering about; unstable emotions can lead to catastrophic results.

Well, catastrophic for her, anyway. This was going extremely well for him.


	240. Ruth

A/N: You know, I never knew this was a word as well as a name.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 28th, Ruth_

 _1\. Pity or compassion._

 _2\. Sorrow or grief._

 _3\. Self-reproach; contrition; remorse._

* * *

With everything that had happened, they hadn't had time to mourn.

The two ex-Freelancers had been distracting themselves by throwing themselves into work. As long as they had something to keep them busy, they didn't have time to worry about the past. But now, everything had finally died down, and there was nothing for them to distract themselves. Not only that, but Church was gone, too, tearing open a fresh wound in Carolina, while Wash's had never quite healed right and now never would. If there was ever a time to break down and grieve, it was now, when the fighting had finally stopped.

The second Carolina reached their shared quarters, she collapsed, finally letting herself sob openly. The only family she had left was gone. Wash was a lot quieter, but his grief was more physical in nature. He was left shaking uncontrollably, curling up into a ball on the floor to try and hold himself together. All of the grief and anguish built up since Freelancer had finally spilled over, destroying both of them in its wake.

Thankfully, Tucker had followed behind to put up the 'do not disturb' sign. He figured they probably wouldn't have had time to do it in their state, and he couldn't blame them. Right now, the last thing they needed was to be disturbed by someone who had no true understanding of what they were going through. They had each other for comfort, so he figured maybe after they cried it out for a day or two he'd come back and check on them again. Right now, though, they needed alone time, and not the extra satisfying kind of alone time.

Carolina's sobs finally died down after nearly suffocating her for half an hour. By that time, Wash's trembling had gone down to a small, barely noticeable shiver, and his breathing had evened out as well. Gently, she pulled him into a hug, and while he did flinch, he made no effort to pull away. At the very least, they still had each other, even after all this. They'd be okay eventually; they always were.

* * *

The shot rang out, and a fresh knife of grief stabbed Carolina right through the heart.


	241. Hesperidium

A/N: And we got more food...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 29th, Hesperidium_

 _1\. (Botany) The fruit of a citrus plant, as an orange._

* * *

If there was one thing Caboose loved almost as much as Church, it was orange juice.

Tucker said it made him look even more childish than usual when he was drinking orange juice out of a sippy cup. He was just being stupid; orange juice was delicious for adults too, and the sippy cup kept him from spilling any so he didn't waste it. The sour taste really gave him a kick in the mornings when he needed to wake up. Everyone else drank coffee for that, but Church said he wasn't allowed to drink it. He didn't want it, anyway; the one time he had tried it, everything had gone blurry and he'd been sick and tired all the next day.

So what if it made him look childish? What was wrong with that? Being childish wasn't a bad thing as long as he got to keep enjoying the things he loved. So what if Tucker teased him about it? He did stuff that he enjoyed all the time, so why he was judging Caboose for doing it too? Well, who cared what stupid Tucker thought anyway. He was going to keep doing what he wanted to do with his time, and no amount of telling him it was childish was going to convince him to stop.

He was going to keep drinking that orange juice and he was going to keep loving it, no matter what Tucker said.


	242. Lineament

A/N: This one was a little hard to understand, but I think I get the idea.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 30th, Lineament_

 _1\. A feature or detail of a face, body or figure, considered with respect to its outline or contour._

* * *

She was starting to forget; this was normal, she told herself.

Carolina had lost so many people over the years; family and friends alike. And the more years passed, the harder it got to remember details. She never forgot the people she lost, but she started to forget little things about them. Of course, she didn't remember much about her mother, since she'd died when she was young, and even when she was alive, she wasn't around much. That was understandable; so much time had passed since it happened. She didn't even feel sad while thinking about her anymore, and that was a good thing.

But now the same thing was happening with more recent losses. She forgot just how Connie's hair fell into her face. She forgot what Florida's unnerving chuckle sounded like. She forgot exactly how much taller North was than everyone. She forgot the little signs that signaled when South was seconds away from losing her temper. She forgot the exact shape of Wyoming's always carefully groomed mustache. She forgot the feel of Maine's back pressed against hers in a firefight, and the comfort it used to bring her. She forgot how Wash used to smile before he broke and had to piece himself back together.

And of course, she was forgetting details about York. The way his scars criss-crossed his eyes, the way he smiled, the sound of his laugh, even his warm touch were starting to fade from her memory. Details of her father were also slipping from her mind, but that was more bittersweet. She wanted to remember him as he was before her mother died, not the pale, sunken shadow of a man he had become later in life.

She would never completely forget, but eventually the memories would fade to the point where they wouldn't cause her pain anymore. She didn't really know how she felt about that.


	243. Elysium

A/N: And here's another one from old Greek mythology.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _August 31st, Elysium_

 _1\. Any place or state of perfect happiness; paradise._

 _2\. (Classical Mythology) Also called the Elysian Fields, the abode of the blessed after death._

 _3\. Any similarly conceived abode or state of the dead._

* * *

This really was perfect.

Spending most of their time trying to kill someone or other made the ex-Freelancer's lives rough and tiring. And now they didn't have to do anything like that anymore. Of course, it had been difficult to adjust to peace after so much violence, but thankfully being around these guys made things a bit easier. With the Reds and Blues, nothing was ever too quiet. It was just the right amount of noise and disturbance to keep them from feeling too uncomfortable. After all, there wasn't really any time to slip into dark and dangerous thoughts when Donut was accidentally setting the bases on fire.

Wash had adjusted a lot more quickly than Carolina had. It made sense; he'd spent more time with them, and even prior to that he'd been far less violently stressed out than Carolina. Even then, a completely peaceful, quiet life was out of the question for him. He'd be way too paranoid if he had to spend all his time living somewhere where he wasn't expected to do anything and nothing dangerous happened. With his favorite idiots, he'd get a regular dose of things happening; nothing too dangerous, but just enough to keep him from slipping into paranoia.

Eventually, Carolina was able to get her head around the concept of not having to fight all the time. She honestly couldn't remember if she'd ever been truly relaxed at any point in her life. If she had, it had to have been before her mother died. Since then she'd always been fighting or throwing herself into something to do. She'd never really gotten the chance to really appreciate how it felt to just... do nothing. It... wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling, really. Maybe with a little more time, she'd grow to love it.

Spending the rest of their days like this, surrounded by people they cared about, and who cared about them (not like anyone would ever come out and say it), was something they could look forward to living with.


	244. Septenary

A/N: This number actually works out well here.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 1st, Septenary_

 _1\. Of or relating to the number seven or forming a group of seven._

 _2\. Septennial._

 _3\. A group or set of seven._

* * *

And then there were seven.

Don't misunderstand; the Reds and Blues did consider Wash and Carolina part of their inner circle. They weren't trying to exclude them with that kind of thought. It was just that they hadn't been there at the beginning. The same principle had applied to Sister. They had started with the eight of them in Blood Gulch when the crazy shit started going down; Church, Tucker, Caboose, Sarge, Grif, Simmons, Donut, and Lopez. Ever since the hazing incident that had kicked everything off, they'd all been there. And now one of them was not.

Church being gone for good this time stung more than they were willing to admit. The guy was an asshole, yes, but the fact that he'd always been there in some way had been kind of nice, especially in Caboose's opinion. Helping the matter was the fact that Epsilon had been much less of an asshole than Alpha; sure, he was still an asshole, but in a more tolerable way.

Not surprisingly, his teammates were the ones taking it the worst. Caboose still seemed to be deluded into thinking that he'd come back, but even he was starting to become skeptical. Tucker wasn't letting on how badly he was hurting, but it was obvious to anyone who knew him. He knew Church the longest out of anyone, and getting used to the fact that he wasn't going to come back was hard. Tucker had always taken that for granted; after Church had died the first time, he'd believed he'd always be sticking around and haunting them for the rest of their lives.

Well, now he was haunting them in a very different and not good at all way with his absence.


	245. Narcotize

A/N: Keep in mind, this doesn't always have to do with drugs. Just most of the time.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 2nd, Narcotize_

 _1\. To make dull; stupefy; deaden the awareness of._

 _2\. To subject to or treat with a narcotic; stupefy._

 _3\. To act as a narcotic._

* * *

"For the last time, no!"

Really, you try to stick your neck out for a guy you barely like just to try and be nice, and this happens. Tucker wasn't surprised; Wash was prickly and antisocial at best, but one wrong move would get him yelled at. He'd just been bothered by Wash's constant nightmares and lack of sleep. They were leaving the guy dead on his feet, and if he was supposed to take up the position of Blue team's leader, he'd rather not have someone who was constantly sleep deprived doing it; Church had been bad enough.

But when he gave his suggestion for a solution to his sleeping problem, Wash had refused without even considering it. Church had at least tried that same idea before grumpily complaining that it didn't work. Wash wasn't even giving it a chance, and that just pissed him off. How were you supposed to know if it was a good idea if you never even tried it? Of course, most of their ideas were bad ones, but this one was good enough, he'd thought. Apparently, Wash hadn't agreed, and the two had been arguing about it since.

"You could at least try it before you call my idea stupid!"

"I didn't say it was stupid, Private, I just said I'm not doing it!"

"You could at least give me a damn reason! You never tell us anything!" Good thing Caboose was out for a walk; he'd be really upset to see them fighting like this. But Tucker was so angry he only felt a little guilty about it.

"If I don't tell you something, then I've got a good reason not to tell you!" he snapped back.

"And how are we supposed to know that?! For God's sake, Wash, we barely know you!" And whose fault was that? Tucker had been so annoyed by the fact that Caboose wanted a Freelancer to stick around and replace Church that he'd never given the guy a chance. He'd never even tried talking to him normally, so Wash never got a chance to try and open up to him. But he'd never admit fault when he was this pissed off.

To his surprise, Wash seemed to falter. "You're not wrong about that," he admitted quietly, not meeting his eyes. "Sorry, I shouldn't have yelled. I just get really frustrated when my trouble sleeping comes up; I shouldn't be taking that out on you."

Tucker hadn't expected an apology of all things, so he was left stunned for a few seconds. In those few seconds, a thought occurred to him. "You already tried sleeping pills, didn't you?" he guessed.

Wash nodded. "I tried a few times. I got to sleep, but when I had a nightmare, I couldn't wake up," he said. Tucker, having calmed down, immediately took notice of the fact that he had said 'when', not 'if'.

"And you couldn't have just said something?"

He shrugged. "Like you said, we barely know each other."

 _Maybe we should change that._ But Tucker couldn't figure out a way to say it without it sounding awkward. How do you start getting to know a paranoid ex-special ops guy who kept jumping at shadows?


	246. Fais-Dodo

A/N: Oh, dear lord...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 3rd, Fais-Dodo_

 _1\. (Louisiana) A country dance party._

* * *

"Seriously, nobody likes the banjo!"

Simmons pouted even though no one could see it. _He_ liked the banjo, thank you very much; why else would he have learned how to play it? Grif just didn't appreciate good music; that was the only reason he wouldn't let him in the band. Besides, Carolina liked his banjo playing, so there! Wash saying she was stone-cold tone-deaf didn't mean anything! Well, watching her chase him around while he screamed like a little girl had been hilarious, so it did kind of mean something...

Still, just because Grif claimed people didn't like banjo music, he wasn't allowed in the band. Well, obviously, people had to like banjo music for the banjo to stick around as long as it did. It didn't matter that Tucker agreed with him, and it didn't matter that Caboose went along with it just to keep from feeling left out. He liked it, and obviously other people liked it, so there! Grif was wrong, end of story! At least Sarge would agree with him, if only to make fun of Grif for being wrong.

Sighing, Simmons found a quiet spot and practiced a few rolls and drones. Learning how to play had helped with his co-ordination problems from after Sarge made him a cyborg. It took time, a lot of practice, and a few dozen broken banjos, but he eventually got it down. Not only could he play quite well if he did say so himself, but he could handle precision tasks that had been difficult for him to figure out with his new body. No more accidentally breaking parts!

So what if Grif didn't appreciate it? He appreciated it, and that was all that really mattered in the end.


	247. Serotinal

A/N: I hate it when summer ends... but I know it has to happen.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 4th, Serotinal_

 _1\. Pertaining to or occurring in late summer._

* * *

The water park had been Grif's idea.

Of course, Carolina hadn't approved, but they didn't need her approval for anything anymore. This wasn't a matriarchy, as much as she wanted it to be, and she was outvoted. Not to mention Wash was surprisingly convincing on that front. Who knew he liked water parks? But, really, aside from people who couldn't swim, who didn't enjoy going to a water park in the summer? Nobody; that's who!

There was always something for everyone; water slides and wave pools for people who enjoyed the more exciting end of the spectrum, and hot tubs for those that just wanted to relax. They should've figured what Wash had been going for the second time they found him asleep in the hot tub; apparently, he had a tendency to get too relaxed in there. Meanwhile, Caboose would be playing in the wave pool trying to make the waves even bigger, which nearly drowned Tucker once, but he was more annoyed than angry.

Sarge had finally gotten around to making Simmons water-proof, so he could help out in a tag-team water fight if one ever broke out (they did, often). Grif could finally drag Simmons squealing into a pool without worrying about hurting him. They had to stay in the shallow end since he still sank like a stone, but Sarge was already getting to work on that. Grif, meanwhile, was happy as he could be. Swimming was, in his words, 'the sport that requires the least amount of effort; the water does most of the work!'. Well, professional swimmers would probably say otherwise, but Grif wasn't a professional, so he didn't care.

Now all they needed to do was keep Donut from skinny dipping in the pools, and it would be perfect.


	248. Bicameral

A/N: I can actually make this one work!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 5th, Bicameral_

 _1\. (Government) Having two branches, chambers, or houses, as a legislative body._

* * *

With two people in charge came two ways of thinking, and of course that caused conflict.

Kimball, being the go-getter action type she was, always had to be doing something or she'd go stir-crazy. Because of that, she had a tendency to rush into dangerous situations which could easily have been avoided with a little careful planning. Doyle, on the other hand, was far too cautious. He waited and planned out his moves, but if he didn't put them into motion, they were useless. Besides, he was far more suited to office work than battle. That was why the two always butted heads over their ideas of what to do.

But it also helped them improve when they could stop arguing long enough to talk. Doyle's caution helped to reel in some of Kimball's hot-blooded nature. Meanwhile, Kimball could put some of Doyle's plans into action while he was still too nervous to try them. If they could just stop arguing long enough to notice how they supported each other, they could improve their strategies greatly. But their egos were just too big for either of them to consider stopping to listen. Pretty much all of the Reds and Blues had tried to convince them of this at some point or another, but they weren't willing to listen.

Then again, they had been in the same position once, a long time ago. It had taken them years to get to the point where they weren't trying to kill each other every time they saw each other. But these two didn't have that kind of time, so they had to come up with another idea. But how do you get two groups of people who have hated each other for a very long time to start getting along in a short amount of time?

Well, they had to think of something soon, or things were going to keep getting worse. And things couldn't afford to get worse now.


	249. Catachresis

A/N: I think these days people mostly do this by accident when they're trying to sound profound or smart.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 6th, Catachresis_

 _1\. Misuse or strained use of words, as in a mixed metaphor, occurring either in error or for rhetorical effect._

* * *

Sarge wasn't all there sometimes.

Everyone knew that, but nobody really cared; not even Simmons. It did catch Wash off guard when he first took notice, but he eventually just brushed it off as something that was normal around these guys. Same with Carolina, but she at least had been concerned with the idea of having someone in a position of power that wasn't all there mentally; she'd had enough of that for one lifetime. It took a bit, but they were able to convince her that Sarge was mostly harmless.

Everyone knew that Sarge was starting to go senile. Even he knew it, but he was in denial about it. He'd rather die than succumb to something like this. So far it was just him saying things that really only made sense to him, but he privately worried about what would happen if it got worse. That was the main reason he was always in a hurry to throw himself into a fight. He didn't need to think about growing old when he was busy fighting for his life, after all. But even he couldn't run from ageing forever. If nothing else got you, time would pick you off at the end.

He knew most people dreamed of growing old peacefully and passing away in their sleep at the end. But did they even consider what could happen along the way? How their tired old minds would start to wear themselves out, to the point where they had trouble recalling simple things? Sarge never wanted to get to that point; he was a soldier, not a civilian! But they were retired now; what was he going to do?

Well, the 'evil robot army' idea had worked decently well for O'Malley; who was to say that he couldn't try it himself?


	250. Whoosis

A/N: Yeah, I've heard this word quite a few times, actually.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 7th, Whoosis_

 _1\. (Informal) An object or person whose name is not known or cannot be recalled._

 _2\. (Informal) A person or thing considered typical or illustrative._

* * *

So, this was maintenance day?

Wash had heard Simmons complaining to Grif about upcoming maintenance, and had gotten curious. He knew it was rude to intrude on a conversation, but really, no one cared about rudeness around here unless it was convenient for them. So, out of curiosity, he'd asked about it. Sarge happened to overhear Simmons explaining things to him and had invited him to assist. He'd been reluctant, and Simmons had been nervous, but there was no saying no to Sarge when he got an idea in his head. So now here he was, waiting by Sarge's toolbox, watching him take a look at Simmons' parts while Grif stayed close in an almost overprotective fashion (but he'd never say that).

"Hey, Wash, pass me the whoosits next to the whatsits, okay?"

"Huh?" Simmons just rolled his eyes at Sarge's vague request, but made sure he didn't see it.

"The screwdriver. Sorry, Wash; he never learned the names of the tools," he admitted.

That was... actually, considering Sarge, he was more surprised that Simmons had been able to figure out what he meant. Passing Sarge the screwdriver, he aimed another questioning look at Simmons. He just shrugged, wincing a little as Sarge got to work on his leg. "Hey, we've been doing this for years now. I figured it out to help Grif out; he's usually doing what you're doing."

Well, now it was obvious why Grif hadn't argued about him being there; he was probably taking it as a break to spend time with Simmons and just talk. In that case, he'd be glad to help out. As long as he wasn't in the way, he was fine with being here.

"Okay, now pass me the thingamabobber over there," Sarge requested distractedly.

"He means the pliers. I hate this part..."


	251. Fossick

A/N: I guess this was such a problem in Australia that they had to make a word for it.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 8th, Fossick_

 _1\. (Australian) To hunt; seek; ferret out._

 _2\. (Australian, Mining) To undermine another's digging; search for waste gold in relinquished workings, washing places, etc._

* * *

"How do you find anything in here?!"

Grif ignored Simmons' squawking and got back to looking. Seriously, what was his problem? This was an organized mess; he knew where everything was. He just needed to look for a bit. It would be nicer if Simmons helped, but he didn't dare come into the room. Something about the mess leaving him a sobbing wreck; stupid perfectionist needed to stop overreacting. Now where was it...?

"Found it!" Triumphantly, Grif pulled the toolbox out from under a pile of discarded clothes and empty Oreo packs. He really needed to throw those out; they kept giving him false hope. Seriously, reaching for a pack only to accidentally grab an empty one was always a disappointment. Maybe he could con Donut into doing it for him; Simmons couldn't be trusted in here. Knowing him, he'd just clean the whole thing and mess up his system.

"If you just cleaned this place up, you wouldn't have to look for anything!" Simmons pointed out crossly.

Grif just shrugged. "You just don't get it; I've got a system here. How would you feel if I went into your room and messed up your stuff?"

"Do you seriously not get the difference between clean and messy?!"

"I should've figured a neat-freak like you wouldn't understand," he fake-sighed. "As long as I can find my stuff, it's fine. So you do things your way, and I'll do things mine, and we won't have any problems finding anything."

"Unless you steal my stuff again, fatass."

"I heard that; get some new material, at least."


	252. Gramarye

A/N: Oh, now I get the reference in Apollo Justice!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 9th, Gramarye_

 _1\. Occult learning; magic._

* * *

Tucker had never believed in ghosts.

When Church had 'died' the first time, he'd been skeptical when he saw the guy come back. Ghosts didn't exist, so how was he here? Then he remembered some of the guy's other odd quirks. _Probably an AI,_ he'd figured. It would go a long way to explaining how he could read binary like it was English. So he was an AI who was either pretending to be a ghost for shits and giggles or had deluded himself into thinking he was a ghost. Either way, he didn't really care. At this point he was honestly more scared of Caboose than an AI pretending to be a ghost.

But he really did act like he imagined a ghost would. He'd stopped using the ghost voice, but he still appeared and disappeared at random, made disparaging comments about his own death, and seemed to haunt them wherever they went. Seriously, there was no hiding from him! And when Tex joined him, Tucker figured she was an AI, too. But she seemed more like she was just playing along; she was a lot less obvious with the whole 'look at me, I'm a ghost' thing they had going on. Asking her about it was pretty much guaranteed to get him at least threatened, so he let her have her privacy. If she wanted to say anything about it, she would.

Having it confirmed that Church had been an AI was supposed to be a satisfying 'I was right' moment for him, but since it came with the news that Church was actually dead this time, it just tasted like ash in his mouth. Then Caboose went and turned on Epsilon and it was like he'd never left. Epsilon was essentially a living ghost of Church; a memory of what once was. Still, he couldn't help but accept this chance to spend some more time with his friend.

Now even he was gone, and the only thing left to haunt Tucker were long ago memories of two guys standing around talking about nothing to pass the time.


	253. Vamoose

A/N: When the going gets tough, the tough run away screaming like little girls.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 10th, Vamoose_

 _1\. (Slang) To leave hurriedly or quickly; decamp._

 _2\. (Slang) To leave hurriedly or quickly from; decamp from._

* * *

Carolina never ran away from a challenge.

Fleeing was a sign of weakness that she could never afford. Every challenge she faced, she did so head on. Some would call her reckless or foolhardy, but she paid them no mind. Only cowards ran from a fight, and she was no coward. This, this wasn't running; this was a tactical retreat. Getting eaten by dinosaurs wasn't exactly high on her list of priorities, thank you very much. She needed to get some distance between them so that she could think of a plan to deal with them.

Meanwhile, the idiots fleeing alongside her (she was not fleeing!) were bickering over whether or not dying as food was considered ironic. Really, in her books, it would only be ironic for Grif, not anyone else. She was too busy thinking to respond, though. How does one deal with a gigantic meat-eating prehistoric reptile trying to eat them? Running (which she totally wasn't doing) would only be a temporary solution to their problem. It seemed these guys weren't keen on finding another way, though; they were fine with running, the wusses.

"Head for wherever Caboose is!" Tucker yelled. "They'll either eat him first or end up his new pets!"

Well, at least that was an idea. See, she wasn't running away. She was running towards Caboose to try out their plan. Nothing cowardly about that at all. Maybe she should run ahead of these guys so she wasn't associated with them fleeing. And if one of them were to trip and become a distraction to help her get further ahead, well, it wouldn't be her fault. Wait, was that wrong?


	254. Antinome

A/N: Everything must exist in a balance; in opposite concepts, one cannot exist without the other.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 11th, Antinome_

 _1\. Something that is contradictory or opposite to another; a logical contradiction._

* * *

Could he continue to exist without her?

Church without Tex just didn't seem possible. She'd been there for as long as he could remember. Ever since Alpha and Beta, they'd always been existing together. They might have been pulled apart by circumstances and the machinations of those who sought to use them, but they always found their way back to each other. So living without her was something he'd never wanted to imagine.

Without her, he was a wreck. He always worried about her and wondered if she was alright. This often left him frustrated, and he would take it out on the people around him, or worse, himself. Without her, he felt emptier than usual. Without her, the perpetual exhaustion would keep getting worse and worse. When she was around, he had an outlet for all the feelings that he was unable to properly express, and he felt just a little bit lighter.

Without him, she was far more irritable than usual. Sure, she still punched anyone who pissed her off, but she was harder to piss off in the first place. The teasing between them helped her let off some steam so she didn't accidentally hurt someone more than she intended to hurt them. But without him she was a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off.

The main difference was that she had found ways to get by without him. She had grown past being defined by him. If something happened to him, she'd be upset, but she would move on and have her own life. Could he grow past being defined by her? She had been everything to him for so long. Could he find a way to keep going without her? Was it even possible?

"I forget you. I'm letting you go."

Well, now was his chance to find out.


	255. Sinecure

A/N: I think a lot of people wish they had a job like this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 12th, Sinecure_

 _1\. An office or position requiring little or no work, especially one yielding profitable returns._

 _2\. An ecclesiastical benefice without cure of souls._

* * *

The part of his job Grif liked most was not doing anything.

Sure, he was stuck with a bunch of idiots and assholes he wanted nothing to do with, but there were still perks. Most commanding officers would never have bought a majority of his excuses for not working, but Sarge was dumb enough to fall for most of them. Sure, they all came with a share of being berated for being lazy, but the consequences actually seemed milder than what they would normally be. Well, except for the shooting part, but that was just a normal share of dickery.

Thanks to that, he was able to get away with a lot of laziness. If he was ever caught napping, he would just say he was on break, or taking Simmons' break, or Donut's break, or even Lopez's break. Lopez didn't even _have_ breaks! And Sarge bought it all the same, walking off grumbling about him being 'good-for-nothing'. He could get away with so much here, and he still got paid whatever he was getting paid normally. This was great; a little less shooting and a little less yelling and it would be perfect.

It was kind of sad that retirement was pretty much exactly the same as when he'd been 'working'. As he said; the same damn shit with the same damn idiots. Well, Carolina getting involved with their shenanigans was new, but not always in a good way. His ears were still ringing from when she tried to sing the last time. Then they got that message from Church and everyone wanted to go running off on another adventure. Not him, no way. He'd put up with that part of the job for long enough.

"I quit."


	256. Concatenation

A/N: If you really think about it, this applies to the whole series.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 13th, Concatenation_

 _1\. A series of interconnected or interdependent things or events._

 _2\. The act of concatenating._

 _3\. The state of being concatenated; connection, as in a chain._

* * *

How had it all started?

This long, painful chain of events had to have started somewhere. What had been the point that kicked everything off? From the Reds and Blues' perspective, the starting point was the hazing incident. Donut and Caboose had just joined, and they had, by some coincidence, gotten annoyed and hazed their rookies at the same time. With the two left unattended, Caboose gave Donut the Blue flag, which set off a chain reaction leading to Church's first death, Tex being hired, Omega jumping into Caboose's head, and later Doc's, Tucker discovering that the war was a farce, Wyoming being sent to kill them, and them getting shipped away from Blood Gulch and split up.

Then things got even crazier. Wash tracking them down set off another chain leading to Church dying again, then kind of coming back, the gang getting back together, Donut getting nearly killed again, Tex coming back, and everyone kind of accidentally saving Wash and Church from a homicidal maniac. Then Carolina showed up and things got crazy again. But, again, those things would probably never have happened without that accidental double hazing.

For the Freelancers, it had started even further back than that, with the death of a single woman. That had kick-started so many events that it was impossible to keep track. But this domino effect had ruined so many lives and caused so much pain and suffering. It was the reason those idiots had been in that canyon at that time for the incident to happen. But had there been some chain of events even before that to cause Allison's death?

Everything eventually led to something else. A butterfly flapping its wings causes a hurricane on the other side of the world. Just a good old fashioned butterfly effect.


	257. Mickle

A/N: You know, there are a lot of these archaic words that no one uses anymore; have people considered trying to bring them back?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 14th, Mickle_

 _1\. (Archaic) Great; large; much._

* * *

Well, he hadn't expected this.

When it came to... _larger_ individuals, Wash's only prior experience had been Maine. When they'd first met, he'd been terrified of the giant of a man who could squash him like a bug any time he wanted. Over time, however, he came to appreciate that just because someone had the means to crush someone effortlessly, that didn't necessarily mean they had the motivation to. He'd toss York around if he was being annoying, but most of the time Maine kept the violence directed firmly at his enemies. He was someone to be feared, but only if you were his enemy. Besides, Carolina was only a little taller than him and she was way scarier.

Caboose was sort of similar in that regard.

He was huge, and as strong as Maine without even using a strength boosting enhancement, but he rarely used that strength unless he really needed to or he got distracted by something. He had a surprising amount of self control for someone with his mental state. Often he worried about him getting distracted while in the middle of doing something important and losing control, but Tucker had assured him that he hadn't killed anyone recently; just Church. Considering Caboose would alternate between calling him 'Church' or 'new Church' depending on how much he was paying attention, that didn't really reassure him.

Sure, Caboose was clumsy and often broke things because he wasn't paying attention, but he hadn't hurt anyone with that strength of his; just some misfired shots. If only he was as careful with guns as he was about his strength; far less people would get hurt in his 'accidents' if he did. But the big guy was really trying; how could anyone be mad about that?


	258. Sensorium

A/N: Mine is way too erratic, sometimes I notice something no one else does, sometimes everyone but me notices it.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 15th, Sensorium_

 _1\. A part of the brain or the brain itself regarded as the seat of sensation._

 _2\. The sensory apparatus of the body._

* * *

Everything just felt so dull.

Sometimes Church's senses just didn't want to work right. Sometimes things would be normal, but occasionally something odd would happen. The first time he noticed this was when he drank his morning coffee one day without noticing how hot it was. He'd actually burned his tongue pretty badly and had to get emergency first aid. Seriously, who knew Flowers was a trained first-aid professional? Well, it came in handy for dealing with him and Tucker all the time, so he couldn't really complain.

After that, though, he started taking more notice of things. Tucker could always smell whenever Flowers made fresh cookies, but he never did. Sometimes he'd not notice he was in pain and end up injuring himself further. The tactile senses like touch, taste and temperature were the worst offenders, but even the others missed things he should have noticed easily sometimes. Was this just another of his body's weird quirks? He'd noticed a few by this point, but this one was weird even by his previous standards.

There had to be something interrupting the connection between his body and his brain; something that would occasionally prevent the sensory information from being registered. Which was most certainly a bad thing; if he couldn't properly register things like pain, he could end up seriously injured without noticing one of these days. But his medical records were still being hidden from him under that 'classified information' bullshit. It wasn't fair, and it didn't make sense; they were his, so a little peak at them wouldn't hurt, right? At the very least, it could help him understand why his body was like this so he could do something about it.

Something was definitely not right here.


	259. Cervine

A/N: I actually saw two wild deer in the backyard of a vet clinic I worked at. They just wandered in like they owned the place.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 16th, Cervine_

 _1\. Resembling or characteristic of deer; deerlike._

 _2\. Of deer or the deer family._

 _3\. Of a deep tawny color._

* * *

Tucker felt bad for Wash, but not for the reasons you might think.

The guy seemed to have no idea how to chill. Every single time someone tried to get him involved in something that wasn't work, he'd get this look like a deer in the headlights, like he didn't know what to do and just started panicking. The same thing happened every time Caboose hugged him. It was like the guy didn't remember how to act like a normal person, and that was just plain sad. Freelancer was fucked up if this was what it did to people.

The guy would always be looking for work to do, and if he couldn't find anything that needed to get done, he'd start running the Blues through drills that left poor Tucker's muscles crying in protest. Wash just shrugged it off and said that pain builds character, but 'character' could go OD in a ditch for all Tucker cared. It wasn't his fault Wash couldn't adjust to downtime, and he didn't need to take it out on him! But how could he fix this problem if Wash's response to anything normal was to freeze up like a statue?

Well, he needed to find a solution, and soon; Wash's stress was starting to get him and Caboose stressed, and if the stress kept worsening, something or someone was going to end up breaking.


	260. Masscult

A/N: Ok, this word was really hard! It took hours to find a definition that I could actually understand, and even then I'm still not sure!

...Also, on a side note, I only saw Star Wars Episode 4 once as a little kid and barely remember it, and a bit of Episode 1, and that's the limit of my exposure to the movies. Even then I can still get most common Star Wars references, and know that the prequels sucked.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 17th, Masscult_

 _1\. The forms of culture, as music, drama, and literature, as selected, interpreted and popularized by the mass media for dissemination to the widest possible audience; the culture of the masses._

* * *

"How can you not get the reference?!"

Carolina rolled her eyes; it wasn't a big deal. The guys were just overreacting as usual. "Well, I've never seen Star Wars," she offered by way of explanation. To her internal dismay, that just seemed to make things worse.

"Even people who haven't seen it, few and far between as they may be, get that reference!" Simmons squawked. Really, he was starting to give Wash competition in the voice crack department.

"Fuck, even _Caboose_ gets the reference!" Tucker added, glancing over at his teammate. Caboose was sticking close to Wash like Carolina was diseased or something, and he gave her a long-suffering look that just screamed 'this is my life now'. Sighing, she made another effort to dismiss their overreacting. It really wasn't a big deal.

"Well, excuse me for not having a childhood," she retorted pettily. It was true; after her mom passed, she really didn't have much of a childhood. She had to look after herself and take up all the responsibilities; not like her father was going to. So she missed a few things here and there, but they had never registered as 'important' in her mind. She did pick up a few pop culture references, but she rarely made use of them because she never really saw the big deal.

Tucker seemed to be taking this seriously, much to Wash's amusement (she'd have to have a 'word' with him later). "That's it; movie night," he declared.

Everyone except the two Freelancers groaned. "Come on, Tucker! You know the only movie we have out here is our crappy rendition of Reservoir Dogs!" Grif complained.

"That was then, this is now. I told Kimball and she sent over a huge supply of movies for us! Don't get me wrong; Reservoir Dogs is still the best movie ever. But we need to get Carolina caught up, and fast. So we're starting with a Star Wars movie marathon, including the prequels!" he declared, to everyone else's gasps.

"Dear god," Sarge gasped in horror.

"I don't suppose there's a chance we can say 'no'?" Wash sighed, resigned.

"Not a chance in hell. Caboose, popcorn! And make sure you get lots; it's gonna be a long 18 hours!"


	261. Clandestine

A/N: Here's one I actually knew before this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 18th, Clandestine_

 _1\. Characterized by, done in, or executed with secrecy or concealment, especially for purposes of subversion or deception; private or surreptitious._

* * *

Secrets and lies.

Everywhere she looked, secrets and lies.

Connie supposed she shouldn't have been too surprised. After all, it was only human to keep things secret. Military organizations always kept the most secrets, for one reason or another. It just seemed to her that Project Freelancer was keeping more secrets than normal. This realization, of course, did nothing to help her rampant paranoia. She was always a suspicious person, always looking out for the truth, and the more lengths people went to keep it hidden the more paranoid she got. She, of course, had gotten good at hiding it over the years; if she hadn't, everyone would be suspicious of just how much she knew.

Spending time with Wash actually helped.

Seriously, the only secrets that guy had were all in the 'embarrassing childhood' category. He had the absolute worst poker face; a little bit of prodding, and he'd spill at the very least something. There was no way she could use him as a source of valuable information (the higher-ups would lie through their teeth to keep any of the soldiers from hearing their dirty little secrets), but she could satisfy her need for secrets with something embarrassing he wasn't supposed to tell anyone. He couldn't keep any secrets from her.

Not even other people's secrets were safe.

"Oh, god, please don't tell South I told you that!"

"Don't worry," she assured with a mischievous smile. "My lips are sealed."


	262. Oceanicity

A/N: Urgh, nature...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 19th, Oceanicity_

 _1\. The degree to which the climate of a place is influenced by the sea._

* * *

"Why's it gotta be so dry?"

Seriously, if Grif didn't stop whining, Simmons was going to lose it. Whining wasn't going to change the fact that this was the place they'd been reassigned to, so he had better start getting used to the weather. Sure, Simmons hated the dry air too, but he wasn't going to waste his time whining and complaining about it. Besides, whining wasted valuable water. The less he spoke, the less thirsty he'd end up being.

Things only got to the unbearable level when Command stopped sending them water. Normally, a human being can only last about three weeks without any water. How were they expected to keep up their defense of the base when they could barely breathe from how dry it was? Sarge managed to get a hold of some strawberry Yoo-Hoos, but he hoarded them all for himself. Not that he'd complain; of course Sarge needed it more than they did. As their commanding officer, he took top priority.

"Hey. Want some ketchup?"

Simmons blinked; since when did Grif share food with anyone? Grif must have noticed his shock. "It's boring without someone to talk to. You can't talk if you're thirsty. Ketchup helps take some of the edge off," he explained indifferently.

So it was purely selfish reasons after all. Well, that was fine; selfishness was kind of the norm around here. Choosing not to ask Grif how he knew ketchup would help, he took a pack and gulped it down. No substitute for real water, but he was right; it helped a little.


	263. Shofar

A/N: Sorry if I get anything wrong, here; I'm Christian, not Jewish.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 20th, Shofar_

 _1\. A ram's horn blown as a wind instrument, sounded in Biblical times chiefly to communicate signals in battle and announce certain religious occasions and in modern times chiefly at synagogue services on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur._

* * *

"You don't like bacon?"

Grif was taking this far too seriously... again, Carolina noted. But she really didn't get why so many people treated bacon like it was manna from the heavens or something equally sacred. Well, it was the exact opposite to her, not that it was anyone's business why. Still, she should probably clear the air before Grif had a heart attack. Before she could, though, Tucker spoke up.

"Grif, she's Jewish. She can't eat pig meat."

That worked; Grif stopped freaking out right away. "That explains it. I'll never get why there's a whole religion based around hating bacon," he sighed as he ran back to the kitchen for a second helping of bacon.

"That's not the point and you know it!" Tucker shot back. Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Carolina. "Sorry. I don't know if you're actually Jewish or not, but I figured it'd get him off your back," he explained.

"And here I was about to ask how you knew," she laughed.

"I just guessed. I mean, Church was Jewish, or he said he was anyways. He never really did anything that gave it away, you know?" Tucker rambled.

She did. Her father had been Jewish, too, but her mother was an atheist. When she died, they kind of just stopped practicing. She still identified as Jewish, and she assumed her father must have been the same, and that had been passed on to Alpha. Well, now was her chance to see if she could find that faith she'd had when she was a little girl, before everything had gone wrong.

Yom Kippur was coming up, if she remembered right. She really hoped she hadn't forgotten what to do. Did Chorus have a synagogue? She should've asked before she left. Well, no time like the present; maybe she could call Kimball and ask.


	264. Polyhistor

A/N: I can think of a few people like this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 21st, Polyhistor_

 _1\. A person of great and varied learning._

* * *

Dr. Grey was a genius.

In Doyle's humble opinion, her talents were wasted on this war. She was needed here, and here was where she would stay, but she deserved so much more. She could treat injured soldiers almost effortlessly, and that just meant that she deserved a proper challenge. She herself had expressed that opinion many times, but still she stayed to treat his wounded soldiers, and he would be forever grateful for that.

But even he couldn't miss the longing in her voice when she talked about her other work.

Her research into alien technology was clearly her true passion; she was much cheerier than usual whenever she got to talking about that. She was never meant to be on a battlefield treating wounded soldiers, and they both knew it. If she ever asked to leave, he'd allow it; it was only fair after everything she'd sacrificed for a war she never wanted to be a part of. But she never did, even as it wore her down, little by little, and she started smiling ( _really_ smiling, not that fake cheer she put on to save herself) less and less.

When Tucker managed to activate one of the temples, the sheer happiness she was radiating over the call was almost infectious. She was in her element now, and the only way she could've been happier would be if there wasn't a war going on. Well, beggars can't be choosers; at least she was happy. He'd been working with her long enough to tell her real smiles apart from the fake ones she wore to get through the day. At this point, it was only a matter of time.

Soon, very soon, this war would be over, and she could finally throw herself back into the work that truly challenged her genius and gave her the thrill she so desperately wanted.


	265. Deciduous

A/N: Well this is around the time for it to start happening.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 22nd, Deciduous_

 _1\. Shedding the leaves annually, as certain trees and shrubs._

 _2\. Falling off or shed at a particular season, stage of growth, etc., as leaves, horns or teeth._

 _3\. Not permanent; transitory._

* * *

Nothing ever really lasts.

Tucker supposed he should have expected this. Every single time they had one of their big adventures, something or other would happen to Church and he'd be gone for a while. For one reason or another, he never seemed to stick around, all because of circumstances beyond his control. But every single time, he came back, and Tucker supposed he'd taken that for granted. Now, things didn't seem to want to work out that way.

The first time, after things in Blood Gulch had settled down, they'd been reassigned to different outposts. That hadn't been too bad; he'd just expected that Church would keep on annoying anyone else he was forced to spend time with, then call him in the evenings and bitch about it. Then Caboose and the Reds had shown up telling him that Church was dead again. At that point, he thought he'd never see him again.

Epsilon wasn't Church, not entirely, but having him around reminded him of the days when the two of them would just stand around and talk. Then he went and got himself stuck in a memory unit and he figured that was that. Then Carolina showed up and they dragged him out kicking and screaming, they'd fought, they'd made up, and at the end of it all, when it all died down, the two of them took off together.

He had been so mad about that that when Church finally showed up again, acting like nothing was wrong, he couldn't talk to him without fighting. He hadn't even given an explanation for why he'd left that time, and that part hurt the most. After calming down on both sides, the two were able to reconcile, and things were just like they'd been before.

"Ain't that a bitch?"

But now they never would be again.


	266. Tattersall

A/N: Seriously, a pattern on clothing?! Sheesh...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 23rd, Tattersall_

 _1\. A pattern of squares formed by colored crossbars on a solid-color, usually light background._

 _2\. A fabric with this pattern._

 _3\. Having this pattern or made with such fabric._

* * *

"You sew? Why am I not surprised?"

Donut ignored the snarky commentary from Grif. Sewing helped him relax; so what if it was considered a 'girly' hobby? Gender stereotypes were so overrated these days. And why was it always him? No one pointed out that Carolina could be found lifting weights in her spare time; though Sarge often grumbled under his breath that it was embarrassing that the 'little lady' was stronger than him, he never said it to her face. And everyone knew about Wash sneaking off to practice his dance moves at night, no matter how hard he tried to cover it up.

Maybe it was just because they were intimidating. But that couldn't be right. Everyone had long stopped being afraid of them, ever since they calmed down and stopped shooting at anything that moved. Maybe it was the lightish-red (not pink!) armor he wore. He'd tried so hard to get a different shade, but it never worked out. And because of that, everyone kept looking at him like he was a weirdo every time he talked!

Well, he didn't care what they thought. He was just going to keep on coming until they finally got off... his back. They'd get it sooner or later; just because a guy wore lightish-red armor and sewed in his spare time, and liked glitter, and enjoyed musicals, and could come up with about 50 different ways to use lube, that didn't make him a weirdo!


	267. Tittle

A/N: I never knew there was a name for these; I just called them dots.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 24th, Tittle_

 _1\. A dot or other small mark in writing or printing, used as a diacritic, punctuation, etc._

 _2\. A very small part or quantity; a particle, jot, or whit._

* * *

"I could care less."

Grif said that often, and every time Simmons tried to correct him. The proper way to say it is 'I couldn't care less', at least in his opinion. But Grif really meant it when he said he could care less. He wasn't completely heartless, after all. Saying 'I could care less' means you do care, at least a little, and Grif couldn't deny that he at least felt something positive towards these idiots he was so used to being around.

He'd tried to deny it for a long time, but he did care. He hated himself for caring, but it wasn't like he could change it. Just like Kai said, he was a softie at heart. It was only when he'd quit and everyone else headed off on another one of their crazy adventures, leaving him behind, that he was able to admit it to himself. He'd missed them so much that it hurt. He still hated them, sure, but not completely, and that was apparently enough for him.

They needed him to be their 'hate glue', and he needed them to need him.

So yes, he could care less. Because he did care a little.


	268. Monticule

A/N: And here's another mountain formation. I've lost count of how many words there are for these.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 25th, Monticule_

 _1\. A small mountain, hill, or mound._

 _2\. A subordinate volcanic cone._

* * *

This actually wasn't half bad.

Carolina had never gotten why Grif took naps every chance he got. The time he spent sleeping could easily have been spent doing something more productive. But they were retired now, and she needed to learn how to be lazy. Grif's advice, while initially seeming unhelpful, had made a good point; 'trying' to be lazy just wasn't possible. That was when she came up with the idea to try following his example and see where that went.

There was a nice shaded spot under a small tree on a hill that Grif had pointed out. He didn't like it as a nap spot, since going uphill was too much work and it left him exposed so that Sarge could find him, but he figured she could give it a try there. So one day, when she couldn't think of anything better to do, she made her way there, laid down on the grass, and took a nap.

Surprisingly, it worked. She'd managed to fall asleep for three hours, and woke feeling completely refreshed. She'd have to thank Grif for the advice; she honestly felt better than she had in years. Who knew that after all this time, one little break and a nap would make her feel so good? Maybe she should just set aside a time each week to come back here and take another nap, and maybe she'd eventually graduate to a nap a day.

Well, first she had to make sure nobody set anything on fire while she was out.


	269. Sobersides

A/N: Yeah, I know a few of these.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 26th, Sobersides_

 _1\. (Slang) A humorless or habitually serious person._

* * *

"I'm telling you; she's way more fun than she looks."

Wash managed a smile as he listened to Tucker going on about Carolina. "I could believe that," he admitted. Back in Freelancer, Carolina had terrified him when they first met. He's been so scared of doing anything that would make her angry. York had laughed at him, saying that Carolina wasn't nearly as scary as he seemed to think, though he did admit that she was still scary. That didn't help; York had been involved in a few hazing incidents, so he wasn't going to just take him at his word. When he got the same answer from North, however, he started to consider it.

Carolina was always hard at work doing _something_. It didn't matter what she was doing; she seemed to always have to be doing something. The MOI did have a break room, but he never saw her there. If anyone wanted to find her for whatever reason, the training room was the most likely spot. South had derisively called her an overachiever, and he had to agree. Did she even sleep?

So imagine his surprise when he got his first invite to strip poker night and she was there.

He lost horribly, partly because he had a horrible poker face, and partly because he was so focused on Carolina. It was the first time he'd ever seen her relaxed and having fun. She'd lost about half her clothes to North, but she was smirking at him like this was only a temporary setback. When everyone finished for the night and started gathering up their scattered clothes to avoid a walk of shame back to their quarters, she and York were exchanging friendly banter about who had exposed the most skin. Whatever she said had him bright red, and she left with a satisfied smirk.

So yes, he could believe that she was more fun than she looked. He'd seen it himself.


	270. Aggiornamento

A/N: This is why I try to keep up with things; they keep changing with the times.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 27th, Aggiornamento_

 _1\. The act of bringing something up to date to meet current needs._

* * *

"Okay, what did I miss?"

That was the problem with being away from the guys for a while. All sorts of crazy shit can go down in a short amount of time, and you had to get caught up quickly before something crazy happened again. After all, whatever crazy shit was going down at the moment most likely had something to do with something that had happened before, and if you missed any details, you might not be able to appropriately deal with the situation.

Tucker, Simmons and Donut all learned that the hard way.

Tucker and Donut had been away on a top secret mission out in the desert, so they had missed the whole adventure with Wash and the guys being chased by the Meta, leading to Church's death. Tucker had adapted quickly enough, but Donut nearly got himself killed by the Meta because he had no idea just how dangerous the guy was. If Simmons hadn't shown up and unwillingly became the distraction, who knows what could have happened?

Heck, even Simmons staying behind to watch the bases while the rest of the guys went to go rescue Tucker left him with some blank spaces. What was with that floating orb thingy? Why did it sound like Church? And why were Grif and Sarge insulting it? How much can a person miss in a few short days?! With these guys, a lot. So being able to summarize the current events in a timely manner became extremely important to them.

"Sarge made a robot army, they're fighting the dinosaurs!"

A lot of crazy shit can go down in a few short moments; be ready for anything.

"I've got the camera."


	271. Pangram

A/N: 'The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.'

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 28th, Pangram_

 _1\. A sentence, verse, etc., that includes all the letters of the alphabet._

* * *

It all started with Grif taking a nap.

Of course, Sarge had to yell at him for it, even though they were retired. Meanwhile, over at Blue base, Caboose had an accident with some paint supplies, and everyone got dyed a different color. Wash was hot pink ("not again," he'd complained), Tucker was left bright white, Caboose himself got painted emerald green, and Carolina was completely brown. Loosing her temper, she chased Caboose around, and the chase eventually led them outside.

Sarge was distracted from yelling when he saw the two off-color Blues running around. Carolina was fast, but Caboose's speed was near-godlike. He took a moment to laugh at their hectic chase, which got Caboose's attention and had him running towards him, with hell (Carolina) at his heels. Sarge decided it was in his best interests to pull a tactical retreat, and Caboose seemed to agree. Too focused on running to change directions, he jumped over the still snoozing Grif to get a quicker path away. Snarling, Carolina also made the leap, continuing her hot pursuit.

Watching all of this was a highly amused Simmons. "Wow. 'The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog'. Never thought I'd see that in real life."

Grif, through it all, hadn't even twitched, despite the screaming, the crying, and the unbridled fury.


	272. Lonely-Hearts

A/N: I don't even know where to start with this...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 29th, Lonely-Hearts_

 _1\. Of or for people seeking counseling or companionship to bring love or romance into their lives._

* * *

"Dude, you need to get laid."

Tucker's comments didn't even phase him anymore, Wash noted. "Why?" he asked.

"You're just so uptight, all the time. Trust me, a good lay helps let off a lot of unnecessary stress," he pressed.

Wash rolled his eyes. Tucker was just that kind of guy. Commitments and responsibilities scared him, so he always made sure to go in with no strings attached. But that hadn't always worked out for him, and sometimes left him saddled with responsibilities he wasn't properly prepared for. There's really no such thing as 'no strings attached'; every action has potential consequences, and you have to be ready to accept them.

Relationships were a commitment he just wasn't capable of handling at the moment. He wouldn't want to burden anyone with his issues. Maybe when he could actually get through a night with no nightmares, and when he didn't need a knife under his pillow to sleep, he'd consider trying a relationship out. In the meantime, this was fine for him. Just spending time with these guys who understood him better than anyone else.

"What about Carolina?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just suggest that. She's like a sister to me, and she'd castrate you if she found out you said that."


	273. Atonement

A/N: Yeah, this comes up a lot in anything I watch.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _September 30th, Atonement_

 _1\. Satisfaction or reparation for a wrong or injury; amends._

 _2\. (Theology) The doctrine concerning the reconciliation of God and humankind, especially as accomplished through the life, suffering, and death of Christ._

* * *

He'd never make up for what he did.

Carolina knew he wouldn't; he'd done far too much wrong to ever make up for it. He knew it as well as she did, and that was why he'd asked for her pistol. Part of her was furious, and she knew Epsilon was as well. How dare he run away again, after everything he's done! He was just a coward wasting away into a slow, painful death. But another part of her agreed that this was the best choice. No matter what he did, nothing could make up for all the lives he had destroyed, all in the pursuit of his single-minded goal.

She, Wash and Epsilon at least had a chance. They'd never gone too far with the things they did, so they had a chance to make up for what damage had been done. They had regret, and with it, a chance for forgiveness. He, on the other hand, had no such thing. He didn't regret anything that he'd done in his attempts to resurrect a dead woman. He didn't regret what he'd done to them, or even what he'd done to Tex. It was at that point that it became obvious that he was too far gone.

Carolina still believed in an afterlife. She believed that her mother was waiting for them in heaven, and she believed her father would never reach her again. She really hoped hell existed so he could burn for his crimes. Even if she ended up meeting him there later, it just meant they were both getting what they deserved. The difference between them was that she understood that she deserved it.

This pale, empty shadow of a man couldn't even understand that much, still caught up in his goals at the expense of even himself.


	274. Anhedonia

A/N: This would be horrifying for me.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 1st, Anhedonia_

 _1\. (Psychology) Lack of pleasure or the capacity to experience it._

* * *

With her gone, everything good in the world went with her.

Allison had been his everything. She made him the happiest man on earth, through the good and the bad. They could get into fights often when their tempers flared, but they always came back to each other. It was just a fact of life that they completed each other, and as long as they were together, the future ahead was brighter than ever before.

So when she died, that bright future faded to black and white.

Nothing could make him that happy ever again; not even their daughter. He knew she needed him, but every time he looked at her, all he could see was her mother, and it only brought him more pain. With Allison gone, all he could do was hurt. Everything he did reminded him of her, one way or another. Eventually, though, the pain faded, replaced with a dull emptiness. He looked at his precious child and felt nothing. He threw himself into his work and still felt nothing.

That had lasted until the day he discovered her. Beta; Alpha's dirty little secret. The moment he heard her voice, his dead heart skipped a beat. It was her! She'd come back! Of course, Price had been quick to dismiss her as a 'byproduct', but she was so much more than that. And with a little... work, she could be even more than what she was now. It was just a matter of getting her away from Alpha at this point.

If he could just get her back, then everything would be alright again.


	275. Thimblerig

A/N: I honestly didn't know this game had a name.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 2nd, Thimblerig_

 _1\. A sleight-of-hand swindling game in which the operator palms a pellet or pea while appearing to cover it with one of three thimble-like cups, and then, moving the cups about, offers to bet that no one can tell under which cup the pellet or pea lies._

 _2\. To cheat by or as by the thimblerig._

* * *

York was really good at sleight-of-hand.

It made sense; picking locks and sleight-of-hand both required dexterity. As long as Delta had the sense to keep quiet, he could get away with just about anything. And Delta did have the sense to keep quiet... most of the time. If York was doing it purely for his own amusement, Delta was far more likely to rat him out. Too bad for York, because this was something that had really amused him before Delta had to start snitching on him.

He was, however, willing to make an exception when it came to teasing Wash, for some reason.

York could feel Delta watching attentively as he slipped a small data chip under his armor. With all his years of practice, he'd been able to find the perfect places to hide things on himself. Just in time, too; Wash came storming after him, red-faced and fuming. "Give it back, York!" he snapped.

York put on his best poker face. "Who, me? I don't have it," he denied.

"Liar," Wash scowled.

"I'm not lying. Look," York insisted, showing Wash his hands. "Where else could I have hidden it on me?"

"Then where did you hide it?" Wash pressed, crossing his arms.

"You know, I saw South in the hallway a while back," he deflected. If he could make Wash think he gave it to her... Nailed it. Wash paled and took off looking for South. York tried to hold his laughter in until after Wash was out of earshot while Delta quietly took note of York's tactics.

"That was quite impressive," he complimented. "So there is more to this trick than simple dexterity."

"It really wasn't much; Wash's as gullible as a fish," York joked. "If you really want to see impressive, watch me when I try it on Carolina." With a small flex he removed the data chip from its hiding place with a grin. "Now, let's get a look at this special blackmail material Connie sold me!"


	276. Woke

A/N: The way people use this word, it's coming across as overdramatic these days...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 3rd, Woke_

 _1\. (Slang) Actively aware of systemic injustices and prejudices, especially those related to civil and human rights._

* * *

This was _wrong._

It was so many things, but above all else, it was wrong. Connie shuddered again as she looked over the data she'd gotten a hold of. When the Director had informed everyone about what they were going to be trying with AI, she had been skeptical. There was no way the UNSC would provide enough AI for everyone, and the likelihood of everyone being willing to share one was small. But with York having recently gotten Delta and the Director insisting that more would be on the way, she got worried.

From what she'd seen and heard, Delta was... off, to say the least. According to what she'd heard York gossiping about at lunch, he had difficulties interacting with people that weren't him, kept York up at night running calculations on the odds of terrible things happening, and seemed all around anxious. Most of the others figured that it was a consequence of their high-risk jobs, and figured that he'd calm down with a little experience. But in Connie's honest opinion, no one gets that nervous without a reason. Something bad had happened, something that scared him so badly that he kept worrying about everything that could go wrong and calculating how to best avoid it.

She'd doubled her efforts after that, searching to find anything that the Director would be hiding regarding AI. This had to be something that he really didn't want anyone to find. It took her far longer than she'd anticipated, dodging all of his security measures, but she finally got in. And what she found shocked and disgusted her more than anything she'd found before.

He was using a loophole to torture and fragment an AI. No wonder he'd been so scared.


	277. Cucurbit

A/N: Well, this is the month where people start harvesting one particular cucurbit.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 4th, Cucurbit_

 _1\. Any plant of the gourd family._

 _2\. A gourd._

 _3\. (Chemistry) The gourd-shaped part of an alembic, a vessel formerly used in distilling._

* * *

The Grif siblings loved Halloween.

Well, of course Grif did; free candy. Grif loved any holiday that was an excuse to eat a lot; Valentine's chocolates, Thanksgiving dinners (Canadian and American so he could feast twice a year), and Christmas feasts made him love all of those holidays. Whenever Halloween rolled around, he'd buy as much candy as he could, take advantage of the fact that the only trick-or-treater they were going to get was probably Caboose, then eat the rest all by himself. Not to mention, Donut could make surprisingly amazing pumpkin pie.

Kaikaina loved the fact that she could dress like a total slut and no one could complain about it. It was nice being able to wear whatever she felt like wearing without Dex getting on her back with things like 'put some clothes on!' or 'stop embarrassing the family!'. Tucker seemed to be eating up the eye candy, which was great, but the cops were being prudes and hiding every time they saw her. She needed something to wear that would let her show off her natural flexibility! And Tucker was so going to enjoy taking it off tonight...

But, for now, she was pumpkin carving with Caboose to make sure he didn't hurt himself. His design was pretty cool; she didn't know what it was, but it was cool. And hers was going to make everyone's jaws drop like they did when she showed off her ping-pong ball trick; that had been fun! They'd be meeting up with the Reds for dinner later, and she was really looking forward to a home-made pumpkin spice latte. That tasted so much better than the Starbucks stuff.

Yep, Halloween was fast approaching, and if this was what the pre-party looked like, they couldn't wait for the actual party.


	278. Aerie

A/N: I don't like these very much. I'm not scared of heights, but I do get a little nervous when I think I might fall.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 5th, Aerie_

 _1\. An apartment or office on a high floor in a high-rise building._

 _2\. The nest of a bird of prey, as an eagle or a hawk._

 _3\. A lofty nest of any large bird._

* * *

Grif was really starting to get tired of heights.

It had all started when Sarge made him clean off the top of their base in Valhalla. He'd gotten attacked by birds (annoying little bastards), fell all the way down (but of course Sarge only cared about the fact that he got the job done), and shattered both his kneecaps when he hit the ground. Sure, he was better in a few minutes, but that still sucked horribly.

Then, of course, the fight with the Meta. Crazy bastard thought he could pull Grif down with him, so he grabbed him as he was sliding off the cliff. Simmons had at least tried to help him, but he'd still fallen. Luckily he was able to grab a hold of the Grifshot or he would have been in trouble. Of course, he was almost in trouble anyway because Sarge kept refusing to actually look and see if he was dead. Come to think of it, the majority of his misery when it came to dangerous things like heights all came from Sarge...

Well, all that mattered at this point was that he was getting real sick and tired of falling and hurting himself. Next time Sarge asked him to do something involving being near the edge of a high place, he'd go find a place to hide. That old man was not going to keep pushing his own fear of heights onto him, thank you very much.


	279. Upcycle

A/N: Okay, I think I get this...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 6th, Upcycle_

 _1\. To process (used goods and waste material) so as to produce something that is often better than the original._

 _2\. To process goods or material in this way._

* * *

How did he keep doing this?!

Why the hell was Wash just shrugging it off like this was normal?! Carolina knew that her suspension of disbelief would be put to the test spending time with the Reds and Blues, but this took the cake. Wash had mentioned that Sarge was crazily good at building things; Lopez was practically indistinguishable from a real person as long as he kept his armor on, he managed to make Simmons a cyborg while saving Grif's life at the same time (though he still had a few glitches to work out), and he was the one who regularly made bodies for the AI when they'd needed them (often boobie-trapped; take that, Blues!).

Carolina just couldn't figure it out; how could Sarge keep making things like these without proper materials and still have them work relatively well? How had he managed to get enough materials to put together an evil robot army in the first place? Sure, they'd malfunctioned and attacked the wrong targets, but other than that, they worked really well. At least everyone seemed to be having fun watching them fight the dinosaurs...

It worked out, sure, but she was still struggling to process that this kind of thing was normal around here.


	280. Collogue

A/N: This actually happens a lot here.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 7th, Collogue_

 _1\. (Dialect) To confer secretly._

 _2\. (Dialect) To plot mischief, conspire._

* * *

"So, we're doing this?"

"We're doing this. Don't tell Caboose; he can't keep a secret to save his life."

"It's not him I'm worried about. I'm more worried about the paranoid ex-Freelancer who still sleeps with a knife under his pillow."

"Don't worry; you guys are really helping. Trust me, Wash won't stab anyone for this... most likely."

* * *

It was quiet; too quiet.

Cliche as it was to say, the quiet really was alarming around these parts. Normally around this time, Caboose would have broken something, or Tucker would have been complaining, or Sarge would by trying to pick a fight. Did something happen? Did they get attacked? How did someone know they were here? No, wait, if that were the scenario, he would have heard screaming of some sort. Did Caboose get lost again? Why didn't Carolina wake him up for the search party?

He couldn't help it; his mind kept racing to the worst case scenarios. Tucker was right about his paranoia, but it had only gotten him into trouble a couple of times. Only when Carolina finally showed up did his pulse go back to normal. "What's going on? Where is everyone?" If anyone had a good grasp of the situation, it would be her.

She just smiled; it almost looked like she was trying not to laugh. "It's probably better if you see it for yourself," she answered, heading back where she came from. Confused, and a little suspicious, he followed. She didn't seem worried, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing; it took a lot to make her worry, so something that would seem minor to her could be dangerous for someone else. The two quickly turned a corner and...

"Surprise!"

Carolina at least had the sense to grab his wrist before he grabbed his pistol. Well, that explained a lot, but there were so many more questions now. Where did they get the ingredients to make a cake? How had they not woken him up? How did they manage to keep Caboose out of trouble while doing this? And most importantly of all...

"How did you know today was my birthday?"

"Caboose guessed and Carolina confirmed it," Tucker shrugged. "He's really good at that."

To everyone's surprise, and his own most of all, he laughed. Last time they'd just celebrated Church's birthday with him instead, but to think they'd actually cared enough to find out when his birthday actually was an celebrate it... "You guys are the best."

"Yeah, we know. Now blow out the candles before Caboose gets to the cake!"


	281. Anthropocentric

A/N: Humans seem to think they're the most important creatures in the universe; what if we aren't?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 8th, Anthropocentric_

 _1\. Viewing and interpreting everything in terms of human experiences and values._

 _2\. Regarding the human being as the central fact of the universe._

 _3\. Assuming human beings to be the final aim and end of the universe._

* * *

Which race is really the more advanced?

On one hand, the aliens that created all of this technology lying around Chorus were geniuses. They were able to make all of these things that humans could never have created. Dr. Grey had spent so much time researching alien technology, and even then she was only really able to make progress with Tucker and his alien sword-key helping her out. They were on a level that even a genius like her could barely comprehend.

On the other hand, they were gone, and humans were able to appropriate this technology and use it for their own means. Some of them had even found ways to combine alien tech with human tech to make it more accessible. There had of course been a few bumps in the road, but now pretty much everyone on Chorus knew how to use it, and they could just ask Santa if they had any important questions. She was pretty sure he was getting tired of it, but this was the perfect opportunity to learn and improve; of course she'd want to ask thousands of questions!

So, she pondered, which race is really more advanced; the one that makes all of these advances, or the one that waits for them to die and takes it for themselves?


	282. Esprit De Corps

A/N: If Freelancer had more of this, maybe they wouldn't have fallen apart.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 9th, Esprit De Corps_

 _1\. A sense of unity and of common interests and responsibilities, as developed among a group of persons closely associated in a task, cause, enterprise, etc._

* * *

With proximity came understanding.

The Reds and Blues had shared a canyon for many years now, whether it was Blood Gulch, Valhalla, or their isolated retirement moon bases. Spending that much time together had unintentionally created a strange bond of kinship between them. Sure, there were a few additions, and they were welcomed (well, as well as these guys possibly could), but these guys had been through so much together that separating them just felt strange.

They argued and bitched each other out, but when times were tough, and they had a common goal, they always had each other's backs. Now matter how much Grif claimed to hate everybody, no matter how much Sarge hated the 'dirty Blues', no matter how much Tucker complained about having to 'pretend' to work together with the Reds, when the chips were down they always supported each other.

Why couldn't he have had this before?

Sometimes, when Wash was having a bad day, his mind would end up plagued by 'what-ifs'. This was no different. The current topic of what-if, however, really got him thinking this time. What if Freelancer had been more like this? What if instead of always competing for the top spots, they chose not to take it so seriously? What if instead of always going behind each others backs and hiding things, they'd had smaller arguments about petty things to let off steam? Could they have pulled together properly and had a better success rate on missions? Could they have prevented some of the more serious injuries by actually working as a unit instead of getting under each other's toes?

There was no point thinking about these things, but he just couldn't help it.


	283. Astrobleme

A/N: These are always pretty cool to see!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 10th, Astrobleme_

 _1\. (Geology) An erosional scar on the earth's surface, produced by the impact of a cosmic body, as a meteor or asteroid._

* * *

"Are you sure it was tonight?"

"I triple-checked; it's tonight."

Fighting all the time was exhausting; the Reds and Blues all knew that. Ever since all that craziness with Freelancers and AI had come to an end, they were even less motivated to fight than before (except Sarge). So every now and again, they'd just put everything aside and hang out for a while. It started with movie night, and then after everyone got bored of watching the same movie over and over again, they started looking for other forms of entertainment.

That was how Simmons, bored as all hell, had been on their crappy Internet on just the right site at just the right time to find out that there was going to be a meteor shower in their area. He informed everyone else, and they had all been of the opinion that it was better than nothing. Well, almost all of them. Church was still sulking about Tex's death and hadn't given an answer. Tucker was sick of it; how long was he going to keep crying over her? He and Caboose missed her too, but they'd stopped mourning weeks ago!

So Tucker decided to use this as an opportunity to try and distract Church from his thoughts; maybe that'd help him move on. Sulking like that wasn't going to help anyone. So on the night of the meteor shower, he dragged Church out of his room, ignoring his bitching, and headed out to meet the others. Grif and Simmons were already bantering, and Caboose had only managed to break one lawn chair. All in all, it was shaping up to be a really good plan.

It was looking to be a great night for distractions and doing nothing while feeling like something was getting done. Only, there was one thing they had overlooked; one factor Simmons had failed to calculate.

"Oh, right, I forgot; the sun doesn't set here. Even if it is tonight, we can't see it."

"Fucking ripoff." Well, maybe he'd find a better idea.


	284. Arcadian

A/N: This one came from a Greek locale hidden in the mountains.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 11th, Arcadian_

 _1\. Rural, rustic, or pastoral, especially suggesting simple, innocent contentment._

 _2\. Of Arcadia._

 _3\. A native of Arcadia._

* * *

Living in a boxed canyon in the middle of nowhere had its perks.

Sure, there were a few downsides; most notably, annoying neighbors that you would never be able to get away from. But when you were stuck in one place and had to take what you could get, you learned to look for the positives of a bad situation. For a long time, the Reds and Blues hadn't been able to find one; they were forever stuck in close proximity to people they hated, trying to kill each other on a regular basis. Caboose and Donut were fine, but they were just weird.

After getting dragged all across the galaxy for so much crazy shit, they finally found a positive.

When you live in the asscrack of nowhere, no one comes looking for you. If someone did, they'd probably expect them to be living somewhere nice. No one would think to look in the shittiest pieces of real estate in the entire galaxy. So, all in all, it was a perfect way to get away from being expected to solve every problem. Sure, they had to put up with each other, but they didn't have to put up with any assholes they didn't know.

So, yeah, their living conditions weren't exactly the best, but they were quiet aside from the usual noise, and that was all they could have asked for.


	285. Netiquette

A/N: Seriously, more people need to practice this. Stop telling people to kill themselves over the Internet; that's horrible and those who do it should be ashamed of themselves.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 12th, Netiquette_

 _1\. The rules of etiquette that apply when communicating over computer networks, especially the Internet._

* * *

"Why are you shitposting again?"

Seriously, it seemed like every single time they managed to get a stable Internet connection, Simmons would spend it going onto forums and shitposting. He'd spend all his time thinking up the most enraging things he could possibly think of, posting them on a forum under a username, and then he'd sit back and watch the ensuing online bloodbath. It really was true what people said; the anonymity provided by hiding behind a screen brings out the worst in people.

"I always shitpost when I'm in a bad mood," he answered curtly.

Grif blinked, thinking that over for a moment. "But you shitpost every time you get on the computer," he pointed out.

"Exactly."

He knew Simmons had issues that he had difficulty dealing with due to his crippling anxiety; everyone knew that. Was this seriously his way of letting off steam? Kinda lame, if you asked Grif. But he couldn't blame the guy for being stressed; trying to please Sarge and get Grif to actually do anything took up most of his day, and not being able to accomplish either always upset him. Still, taking it out on random people while hiding behind a fake name was only going to make other people miserable.

...Not like he was going to actually do anything about it. It wasn't his business, anyways.


	286. Moribund

A/N: A fittingly gloomy word for Friday the 13th.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 13th, Moribund_

 _1\. In a dying state; near death._

 _2\. On the verge of extinction or termination._

 _3\. Not progressing or advancing; stagnant._

* * *

He'd been dead long before she tracked him down.

Not physically, of course; he still lived and breathed just like any other person. But inside, he was dead and rotting. He'd been a good man before; Carolina could at least remember that much. The few fond memories she had of her youth were when her family was all together, and everything felt vibrant and warm. But when her mother died, it seemed like all life had drained out of their lives.

She was able to climb out of that dark pit she found herself in, but her father hadn't been so lucky. He'd wasted away in his own grief, left with nothing to live for after the woman he cherished the most was gone, and had left her behind. Everything he'd done after that was just him going through the motions, persisting despite having lost everything. Why he didn't just give up and die back then, she didn't know.

But when the possibility that he could get back what he had lost had appeared, he clung to it with more desperation than anything before. That was what had allowed him to keep going during Freelancer, long after he should have died. But that single-minded determination to obtain something he could never have caused far more harm than good. So many lives had been lost because of this tired, weary old man who kept clinging even when there was nothing to cling on to.

It was finally time for his body to catch up to his heart.


	287. Intrapersonal

A/N: Okay, so I kinda had an idea that this was a word, but I rarely hear it used compared to interpersonal.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 14th, Intrapersonal_

 _1\. Existing or occurring within the self or within one's mind._

* * *

Church didn't like peeking into people's minds.

Caboose's mind was rough enough, so he never bothered looking if he jumped into someone else. If Caboose was that bad, he didn't want to imagine what anyone else's looked like. Besides, going too deep into someone's mind carelessly could risk brain damage, like what had happened with Caboose, and he didn't want a repeat of that. So he always just stayed near the surface and focused on control of the body if he jumped into someone's body. That was a huge part of why he was so nervous about jumping into Carolina for the first time.

She'd said it was okay as long as he respected her privacy, but he really didn't know how to control what he saw and didn't see. So when he first jumped in, he tried to make himself as small as possible. Gingerly, he stretched out, a sense of nostalgia coming over him. But he didn't get it; he'd never done this without hurting someone before. As Alpha, he'd unintentionally broken Caboose's brain, and as Epsilon, his breakdown had destroyed Wash. How did this feel so... natural?

He could feel Carolina's concern for his comfort, but he was okay now. It felt like... well, he'd call it muscle memory, but he didn't actually have muscles. After some careful flexing, he finally let himself relax. He hadn't broken anything in here yet, so maybe he was finally getting the hang of it. It certainly helped that this was Carolina; he recalled Alpha having a bit of a soft spot for her, though he didn't exactly remember why. Maybe this would help; ever since she'd shown up, he'd been digging into memories he usually ignored. Maybe there'd been something important hidden in there under all the torture and insanity.

Somehow, being with her made him want to find out more about this complicated mess that was his memory.


	288. Pestiferous

A/N: Did you know some people still blame the rats for the Black Plague? It was the fleas on the rats that did it, not the rats themselves.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 15th, Pestiferous_

 _1\. Bringing or bearing disease._

 _2\. Pestilential._

 _3\. Pernicious; evil._

* * *

Everyone feared Locus.

With the cold, professional attitude of a contract killer, he terrified everyone on Chorus, even his own allies. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, and people feared that angering him could very well be the last thing they ever did. Even Dr. Grey was a little nervous around him, though it was near impossible to tell since she intimidated him right back. Little did they know, he wasn't the scary one.

Felix was the one everyone should have feared; he was just better at hiding it.

He didn't care about anything other than himself and money, but he was so good at hiding it, using Locus as his shield, that it took everyone far too long to find out. He even had Locus himself fooled, much to his shame. Felix was like a flea clinging to his back, hiding and waiting for his moment to jump off and bite. Everyone noticed the obvious danger, and became so distracted by it that the more subtle danger could slip by unnoticed.

It was an ingenious plan, really.


	289. Jawbreaker

A/N: I thought this was just a candy, honestly.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 16th, Jawbreaker_

 _1\. (Informal) A word that is very hard to pronounce._

 _2\. A very hard, usually round, candy._

 _3\. (Mining) A machine used to break up ore, consisting of a fixed plate and a hinged jaw moved by a toggle point._

* * *

"Wow; they've got to be bored out of their minds right now."

Tucker glanced over at Church, who was spying on the Reds with his sniper rifle as usual. "Why's that?" he asked, not really interested but just wanting some way to pass the time. This was one of the few times when they were able to sneak closely enough to hear what the Reds were talking about, and he was admittedly kind of curious.

"They're arguing about how you pronounce the name of that one town in Wales. You know, the one with the freakishly long, near-impossible-to-pronounce-if-you're-not-Welsh name?" Church clarified. Tucker was stunned, but had to agree with Church's first statement. How bored did you have to be to start talking about that of all things?

"Do either of them even know how to pronounce it?" Because really, if neither of them knew, wouldn't that be a pointless argument to begin with?

"Doesn't sound like it; they're both wrong. The maroon one's biting his tongue every time he tries, and the orange one's making his double l sounds all wrong," Church scoffed.

What the hell? Tucker immediately addressed the elephant in the room. "Wait, how do you know that? Do you know how to pronounce it or something?"

"Yeah, it's 'Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch'," he answered, giving a little shrug in response. "Don't ask how I know that."

"I thought you were from Texas!"

"I am! I just pick up random things here and there. Seriously, though, don't ask where I picked that one up."

"That's way more than just something you pick up!"

And as the two continued to bicker over whether or not the pronunciation of a Welsh name was something you can just 'pick up', the Reds looked over to their not-so-inconspicuous hiding spot. "Man," Grif sighed, "those guys have got to be bored out of their minds."


	290. Mealy-Mouthed

A/N: Yeah, I get like this sometimes. It's the timidity in my case.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 17th, Mealy-Mouthed_

 _1\. Avoiding the use of direct or plain language, as from timidity, excessive delicacy, or hypocrisy; inclined to mince words; insincere, devious, or compromising._

* * *

Felix was right about one thing; he never actually lied.

He'd never been the type to outright lie; lies were way too obvious. The best way to manipulate someone was to tell them half-truths, or tell them something that was technically correct from a certain point of view. The small pieces of truth were something they could latch onto. If you said something that was blatantly untrue, then someone could easily look into things and find out you were lying. So he got through life by mincing words to his own advantage.

For example, he'd never actually called Locus a 'former' partner, he'd just said that they were partners before. That didn't necessarily mean that they weren't partners currently. And when he'd told the rebels that the Reds and Blues were dead? Well, they weren't dead _yet_ , but they would be soon enough if they kept sticking their noses where they didn't belong. Another favorite of his was being technically honest. Saying things like 'I didn't see him' if Locus happened to be sneaking around to kill a few people while cloaked, or 'you've been a huge help here' when the only thing the Reds and Blues were doing was making it easier to provoke everyone into killing each other.

So, no, he never technically lied. He deceived everyone for as long as he could, and all without uttering a single lie.


	291. Gorgonize

A/N: More Greek mythology! I was really into it as a kid, and I'm still pretty interested in it these days now that I have a better understanding.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 18th, Gorgonize_

 _1\. To affect as a Gorgon; hypnotize; petrify._

* * *

The lingering effects of their experiences weren't going to go away so quickly.

Sure, at the time they'd been able to make jokes about it, but that was just a way to stave off the fear and keep their focus. Now that neither was needed anymore, the aftereffects had caught up with them. Dr. Grey had needed to restrain Wash a few times so he didn't hurt himself when he had nightmares, which only made them both miserable. Carolina just distracted herself by staying in motion; even the smallest motions were enough to reassure her. Equally distracting was her worry for Wash; getting shot in the throat after getting starved to the point of delirium wasn't good for anyone with an already fragile mental state.

This was a major setback in his progress, which of course made everyone miserable. He'd been getting to a point where he could go entire weeks without nightmares, only for another traumatic experience to break that streak. It wasn't nearly as bad as before, but that didn't make it that much better. The second he was able to breathe on his own and feed himself without hospital equipment, Dr. Grey discharged him and had arranged to get him home as soon as possible; the environment would be better for him.

At this point, Tucker and Caboose were well versed in dealing with a messed-up Wash, so they immediately settled into their old roles. Things were slightly different this time, since he trusted them a lot more than he had before. Caboose was always there, making sure he was okay, and even gave him surprise hugs that he made no attempt to pull away from; sometimes he'd even hug back. Tucker was there to bicker with him to keep his mind off of things, while also reassuring himself that everything turned out alright.

Things still weren't all better, but they were going to be okay.


	292. Nocent

A/N: I suppose if 'innocent' is a word...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 19th, Nocent_

 _1\. Harmful; injurious._

 _2\. (Archaic) Guilty_

* * *

No one is ever truly innocent.

Perfection is impossible, therefore it is a given that people will make mistakes, and those mistakes will hurt someone. Some will do so intentionally, and some will do it more often than others, but everyone will do it. Really, it's only a matter of who causes more harm deliberately and who feels bad about doing it that determines how bad a person is. Take Locus and Felix for example.

They both killed a lot of people, both before and during the Chorus civil war. It was deliberate of course; some of those kills were for survival, and some for money. However, Felix enjoyed it, while Locus felt nothing, considering it just part of the job. Felix had been taking advantage of Locus' broken mental state for his own personal gain as well, adding on to his crimes. Locus wasn't completely innocent in all of this, but he was a victim as well, so he was less guilty of these crimes than Felix.

The final difference between them came when Locus uncovered his partner's deceit. He sought to atone for his crimes, and he was making a genuine effort to do so. Being able to feel guilty about his crimes meant that he had a chance for redemption as long as he kept at it, while Felix had never had that chance to begin with. Both were punished in their own ways; Felix lost his life to the people he hated most, and Locus had to live with what he'd done for the rest of his life.

The punishment fits the crime, after all.


	293. Perlocutionary

A/N: People who can do this have got to be seriously talented.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 20th, Perlocutionary_

 _1\. (Philosophy, Linguistics) (Of a speech act) Producing an effect upon the listener, as in persuading, frightening, amusing, or causing the listener to act._

* * *

If there was one thing Kimball was great at, it was speeches.

The hardships she'd experienced let her connect with her men because they'd gone through the same things. Her naturally emotional personality allowed her to get what she was feeling across easily, and since her men felt the same, they latched onto everything she said. Her passion made it easy for her to get her men fired up, and her confidence let them know that she wasn't just throwing empty words out there. So while she may have just wanted to live an ordinary life, she was most definitely suited for leadership.

It took a while for the Feds to get it. At first, they saw her as a violent terrorist out to destroy their way of life. After the two sides joined forces, they saw her as an irrational hothead who kept getting into unprovoked fights with Doyle. After his death, it got worse, with all of them convincing themselves that she had to have been responsible in some way. But then she came out and addressed the troops; all of them.

In that moment, everyone understood. She'd suffered the same as all of them had, with their planet at war, looking for enemies everywhere, desperately trying to live and see another day. She truly understood the pain they went through, and she knew better than anyone what they had to do. She knew that she needed to unite Chorus, or they would all die. She implored them to understand, to truly come together for the sake of their common goal.

And so they did.


	294. Ducky

A/N: Okay, but... why ducks?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 21st, Ducky_

 _1\. (Informal) Fine; excellent; wonderful._

 _2\. (Informal) Darling; charming; cute._

* * *

Caboose was just impossible to hate.

Heck, even Tucker couldn't really hate him, as much as he said he did. He was like a big, slobbery Saint Bernard that you didn't want drooling all over your stuff, but he kept jumping up on you because he loved you just that much. To know that so much unconditional love was being directed at you would make even the hardest of hardasses eventually give up and stop shoving him off. Everyone eventually succumbed to his unorthodox methods of showing love and accepted them.

That was why if someone went out of their way to pick on Caboose, instead of situationally like everyone else, they were an enemy. Tucker's occasional jabs were how they communicated, Sarge yelled at all Blues so it wasn't personal, and of course Church's naturally caustic personality lead to a lot of yelling that Caboose knew he only half meant. But if anyone made Caboose genuinely cry, anyone at all, there would be hell to pay. If anyone was cruel enough to kick their big slobbery puppy, they had to be pure evil or something.


	295. Coleopteron

A/N: Ladybugs and the like have really delicate wings. That's why they have these protective covers to keep them safe.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 22nd, Coleopteron_

 _1\. A coleopterous insect; a beetle._

* * *

Getting someone as paranoid as Wash to come out of his shell was hard.

No one could blame him; everyone he'd trusted had backstabbed him in some way, shape or form (though in Caboose's case it was purely accidental). Any bit of extra kindness he got, he seemed to be looking for a catch of some kind. Really, the only catch that existed was that he needed to get a victory for the Blues if they ever got bored enough to play Capture the Flag, but he seemed to think there was more to it. He was overthinking it, and Tucker had told him that multiple times, but he didn't seem to get it.

When dealing with Carolina, things got a bit more complicated. Wash obviously really respected Carolina, but her abrasive attitude was sending him retreating back into his shell. It was a mix of respect and fear that left him unwilling to call her out, but as her attitude got worse and worse, and she started making some pretty controversial decisions and stopped showing him any of the respect she'd shown him before, he started to step out of line. When she left on her stupid suicide mission, as Tucker put it, he felt calm for the first time in a long time.

It was only after that, only after he'd finally put the ghosts of his past behind him, that he was able to truly open up and consider himself part of the team.


	296. Cruciverbalist

A/N: Yeah, I do these in my spare time sometimes. Oh, and for the love of god, don't look up eskimo trebuchet.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 23rd, Cruciverbalist_

 _1\. A designer or aficionado of crossword puzzles._

* * *

"What's a six letter word for pain?"

"Trauma," Grif answered.

"What are you guys doing?" Sister asked, popping over to the two Reds. Grif rolled his eyes at his nosy little sister's intrusion into their private time. "Ooh, crossword puzzles! Dex and I did those all the time when we were kids!" Simmons cocked an eyebrow. He knew Grif was surprisingly good at crossword puzzles, but he had no idea that his sister also had this talent. She settled in against her brother, and while he groaned, he didn't push her off.

"Not like there was much else to do," he shrugged, trying to play it off. Simmons didn't say a word, but it was obvious that this was a lot more important to the two that Grif was letting on. Turning his attention to the next clue, he decided to see just how good she was at this. "Hey, Sister, what's a six letter word for a city in New Hampshire?"

"That's easy; Nashua," she answered. Surprisingly, she was right. "I went there for one of my conventions once."

"Oh, god, you didn't get naked on camera again, did you?" Grif sighed.

"No, just a normal eskimo trebuchet," she answered.

"Again? No wonder Blue base smelt like puke when we went to get your stuff."

"Yeah. Wait, what?"


	297. Rapprochement

A/N: Here's hoping this can happen more often.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 24th, Rapprochement_

 _1\. An establishment or reestablishment of harmonious relations._

* * *

It had taken years, but they'd finally done it.

After so many years of struggle, death and despair, the war was finally, truly over. No more useless civil war, no more killing each other over nothing. No more mercenaries trying to lead them on and then killing them when they deviated. All of it was finally behind them, and in the process, Chorus was united once more, stronger than ever. It was everything Kimball could have dreamed and more. She only wished Doyle had lived long enough to see it for himself.

Ever since her speech, things had only been getting better for the people of Chorus. They stopped seeing two different sides and actually made an effort to get along without the immature taunting. There were a few little teases every now and again, but at this point they were just playful jokes rather than anything honestly mean-spirited. Was this how things were with the Reds and Blues after they had stopped fighting each other? Tucker had once told her that at any given time the two groups were either fighting or pretending to work together. To her, though, it didn't seem much like pretending.

Well, if they did turn out like the Reds and Blues, it wouldn't be a bad thing in her eyes. They were idiots and assholes, sure, but they had their good qualities as well. When their backs were against the wall, when they had something to work for, they'd do it, and they'd do it together. They'd earned the retirement she'd been able to get them. Chorus could finally stand without them, because they finally stood together.


	298. Deadwood

A/N: I've noticed people using this when they want to make a story longer. I, of course, am also guilty of this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 25th, Deadwood_

 _1\. (In writing) Unnecessary words, phrases, or exposition; expendable verbage._

 _2\. The dead branches on a tree; dead branches or trees._

 _3\. Useless or burdensome persons or things._

* * *

No one is ever completely useless.

Sure, there are some situations where a person's specific skill set is useless. Caboose couldn't give proper covering fire in any situation, Grif didn't know anything about computers, and the less said about the time Carolina tried to sing, the better. So in those situations, yes, they were useless. However, that didn't mean they were completely useless. Caboose had his odd affinity with AI and large animals, Grif could drive any vehicle with minimal practice (though he still needed to work on not crashing aircraft), and of course Carolina was a master in combat scenarios.

Even someone who might seem completely useless might not be. All you need to do is find the exact circumstances that can make them useful. Heck, even Doc, as horrible as he usually was at healing, did manage to save a couple of lives. All of the Reds and Blues seemed like useless idiots on the surface, but when the chips were down, their unusual set of talents made sure they wouldn't be useless in a fight. Everyone's got something that they're good at, and when they can find a way to use these skills to get something done, they're useful. It's just a matter of finding those circumstances.


	299. Sawbones

A/N: I've actually heard this term a few times before, usually preceded by the word 'old'.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 26th, Sawbones_

 _1\. (Slang) A surgeon or physician._

* * *

Doctors had weird senses of humor. Especially doctors in purple.

That was the conclusion everyone on Chorus had come to after spending prolonged time around Dr. Grey and Doc (who, while not an actual doctor, still qualified). Anyone who had to spend any time with them would agree on that front. But spending time with both of them together really emphasized it. Their constant happy demeanors hid a sense of humor that usually involved joking about other people's injuries. Well, laughter is the best medicine, or so they say.

"Wash, did you get another concussion?" Doc sighed, looking the injured Freelancer over.

"Maybe," he groaned, trying to focus through the pain.

"That'd be three since you landed here! I'm surprised there's anything left to rattle in there!" Dr. Grey teased. Doc laughed and Wash just sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Am I okay?"

"No, you got hit by a car; that's the opposite of okay, sweetie," she scolded.

"Well, it's not as bad as when Tex blew you up, so that's a plus," Doc assured. "Still don't know how I managed to fix you up after that one!"

"So, no concussion this time?" Wash asked.

"No, just a contusion this time. You're just a little bruised compared to your usual brushes with cars," Doc explained.

"Don't worry, I triple checked his work. No misdiagnoses on my watch!" Dr. Grey continued, chipper as ever. "I'd still recommend bed rest so you don't make it worse."

"Great."

"Hey, head trauma is head trauma. It's just that this isn't as bad as your usual. Hey, maybe the cars have decided to stop trying to murder you!" Doc suggested optimistically.

Wash sighed and tried not to laugh. "When that happens, you'll be the first to know."


	300. Preta

A/N: I've heard this word a few times, but I never knew what it meant until now.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 27th, Preta_

 _1\. (Hindu Mythology) A wandering or disturbed ghost._

* * *

Church didn't get himself.

Part of it was probably because there weren't any other ghosts around besides himself and Tex. He didn't have anyone around to tell him about being a ghost, and since Tex died after him, she only knew what he did. Wasn't he supposed to pass on after his business was done? He didn't want to spend the rest of his afterlife stuck with these morons! Maybe it was Tex's fault; he couldn't move on until she did, and she still had some unfinished business, or something like that.

Sighing, he once again cursed the fact that he didn't need to sleep. This was worse than when he was alive; at least then he had a chance of falling asleep. Now he couldn't sleep at all and could get no relief from his perpetual exhaustion. All this made him more irritable than usual, and Tucker avoided him as much as he could while Caboose obliviously took the verbal abuse. It wasn't until Tex showed up again that things got better. "Can't sleep?" she asked.

"Ghosts don't sleep," he shrugged.

"Really? 'Cause I've been sleeping just fine. Maybe your insomnia's just acting up," she stated. Church hated it when she was right; she got so smug about it. Then again, who was he to judge when it came to being smug about being right? "Look, you need to try again before someone gets their head bitten off. Don't get me wrong, it'd be fun to watch, it's just not good for my paycheck if you guys kill each other off."

"You're a ghost; what are you going to do with money?!" he asked incredulously.

"You'd be surprised," she teased. "Now come on, you need sleep. I'll hold your hand if you need my help, you big baby."

"Bite me, bitch." She laughed, and he couldn't help but smile. She had a point; who was he to say that ghosts couldn't sleep? He figured there wasn't any harm in trying, and this time he was so sleep deprived that he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

When he woke up the next morning, feeling better than he had in what seemed like years, she was still right there with him.


	301. Guisard

A/N: Apparently people go around wearing masks and visiting family in Newfoundland around Christmas.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 28th, Guisard_

 _1\. A person who wears a mask; mummer._

* * *

At first Carolina didn't take off her armor in public.

Most of it was paranoia, of course. She didn't feel comfortable without her armor, constantly feeling like she would get shot at the moment she let her guard down. But part of it was because of Wash. He hadn't seen her sans armor since before what happened with Epsilon, and considering what exactly Epsilon's connection to her was, she feared seeing her face would cause a negative reaction. However, she couldn't wear her armor all the time while in retirement; the guys kept insinuating that she didn't know how to have fun, and she wanted to prove them wrong.

And then she walked in on Wash while they both had their armor off.

It had been so long since she'd seen him so... vulnerable was the only way she could describe him. He looked so much older than she remembered; a nasty side effect of his experiences. He seemed to be taking in her appearance as well, and for a moment she feared the worst. After a while, however, he just blushed and looked away. "You look nice," he finally stuttered out.

"Thanks," she replied, because really, what else could she say in this situation? She took this opportunity to get a better look at him. How had he grown up so much without her noticing? When she last saw him like this, he was still a slightly klutzy kid of a soldier. Now he was all grown up and she hadn't even noticed until now. Was he thinking the same about her? How much had she really changed?

The next day, she showed up in front of everyone in casual clothes. Among the shocked gasps and the cheers from Caboose, Wash smiled.


	302. Psychomancy

A/N: Be honest, how many people tried talking to ghosts for whatever reason?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 29th, Psychomancy_

 _1\. Occult communication between souls or with spirits._

* * *

Did Church and Tex argue this much before dying?

Tucker tried to tune it out, but they were _loud_. Church had said Tex was a bitch, and he knew from experience that Church was a pain in the ass. Put the two together when they were in bad moods, and their arguments could last all day. The yelling made Caboose anxious, which made him whiny, which pissed off Tucker, which left Blue base a violent cesspool of misplaced rage (well, moreso than usual). After the third straight day of this, Tucker had enough. If they weren't going to shut up on their own, he'd make them shut up.

"Seriously, I'm going to call an exorcist if this keeps up!" he complained loudly.

"Ha! Like that'll actually work!" Church snapped back, distracted from his fight with Tex. "Most of those are scams anyway!" Tex, meanwhile, quietly took off while he wasn't looking. It seemed she was just as tired of the fighting as Tucker was, and had just been looking for an opening to escape so she could clear her head. Tucker made some excuse about going to check the supplies for more coffee so he could get out of there before Church noticed she was gone and got even moodier.

Tex was sitting up on the roof of Blue base, glaring at the Reds across the canyon like she was planning on running over there and beating them up to vent. "You're welcome," he teased. Tex spared him a glance, then went back to her glaring.

"Thanks, I guess," she muttered back. "Sometimes a girl needs her space."

"Don't I know it," he sighed. "That's why I never commit."

She actually laughed at that, and he smiled. "I guess you can stick around, at least. I need someone to vent to."

"I'll pretend to listen if you let me use that sniper rifle."

"Yeah, no. I'm not _that_ desperate."


	303. Kobold

A/N: Sheesh, what can I do with this?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 30th, Kobold_

 _1\. (In German folklore) A spirit or goblin, often mischievous, that haunts houses._

 _2\. (In German folklore) A spirit that haunts mines or other underground places._

* * *

Sometimes, when Church got bored, he'd go haunt the Reds for a while.

Sometimes he needed some time away from his teammates, so he'd slip off and take his frustration out on the Reds. It was small stuff; no big deal. Things like swiping a few of Grif's snacks and hiding them in Simmons' bunk or mixing up Donut's makeup products. Hearing them yelling at each other made him feel much better. For some reason, it just didn't annoy him like Tucker and Caboose arguing.

The only bad thing about this was Sarge and his crazy 'ghost traps'. They didn't do anything to him other than seriously annoy him. Garlic, holy water, crosses, even incense, which Simmons complained about when no one else was listening. He couldn't smell anything, so garlic and incense didn't bother him, and while he was religious, he never actually practiced, so crosses and holy water didn't bother him. They were pretty funny when the Reds got caught up in the traps by accident, but that was all.

But the most entertaining part about this was the fact that they never seemed to catch on that it was him, even though he and Tex were the only ghosts around, and she wasn't there half the time. Did they seriously think she was the one who was pranking them? Thinking about that just made him laugh even more. Well, he should probably get going before they realized that he hid Donut's magazines in Grif's mess of a bunk.


	304. Heebie-Jeebies

A/N: Happy Halloween! Here's to gorging on candy and binge watching Hellsing Ultimate Abridged!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _October 31st, Heebie-Jeebies_

 _1\. (Slang) A condition of extreme nervousness caused by fear, worry, strain, nervousness, etc.; the jitters; the willies (usually preceded by the)._

* * *

Everyone was scared of something.

It might seem cliched, but everyone is afraid of something. It's a natural response; you believe that you are in danger from this threat, and so you become afraid of it and avoid it. Some were rational, some irrational, but everyone had at least one. Some people are afraid of the same thing, and some are afraid of completely opposite things. Some try to rationalize their irrational fears, and some know that their fears are irrational and make an effort to do something about it.

Sarge was afraid of heights after years of service and a lot of jumping from extreme heights. Grif was afraid of bats because he irrationally believed they'd bite him. Simmons feared snakes for the same reason, but fearing the harmless ones as well made his fear irrational. Lopez, of course, feared EMPs because of how dangerous they were to him. Donut was scared of looking tacky because looking good always made him feel good, so looking bad would make him feel bad.

Tucker feared commitment; the responsibilities of taking care of a family made him shudder. Jr. was okay because he was low-maintenance, but he didn't want to think about how bad a 'normal family' would be. Caboose feared being left alone, so he always looked for someone to spend time with if he needed company. Wash was a powder keg of anxieties, but he was getting better little by little. Well, except for cars.

Church, however, had the most anxieties out of all of them.

He feared that every bad scenario he could imagine could happen. After what he had gone through, such fears were natural. But it was extremely unhealthy; to keep everyone else out of harm's way, he kept putting himself in. And in the end, it got him killed.


	305. Bonce

A/N: Be sure to watch yours!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 1st, Bonce_

 _1\. (British Slang) Head; skull._

* * *

Head injuries were distressingly common among the Blues, Dr. Grey noted.

Tucker at the very least had a clean record, so that was something. But everyone else had gotten at least some brain damage within the past few years. Caboose was most certainly the worst offender, with so much brain trauma that it had completely altered his personality, according to Tucker. He hadn't been nearly this stupid before the incident with O'Mally; not that smart, sure, but not nearly that dumb. Now he was falling and landing on his head a lot, and seemed to be under the impression that this was okay.

Additionally, Blue team had both Freelancers, which had added to their head trauma count. Carolina seemed to have a bad habit of falling off of cliffs, and Wash kept getting hit by cars. Their previous brain injuries from AI related circumstances made things slightly worse for them. Carolina had gotten off easy, with just a little difficulty keeping her temper under control. Wash, on the other hand, had well-established memory troubles and paranoia issues that he had only barely started getting over. And as Carolina reported to her the last time he'd gotten hit, head injuries just made his memory problems worse.

They really needed to get their acts together; permanent brain damage was no joke.


	306. Hypogeal

A/N: Knowing the word parts, the meaning of this word makes sense.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 2nd, Hypogeal_

 _1\. Underground; subterranean._

* * *

Getting used to living above ground was hard sometimes.

Kimball winced again at the sunlight; it was much brighter than the industrial glow she was used to. She honestly couldn't remember how long she and her rebels had been living in the caverns beneath Chorus, hiding and biding their time to strike back at their far more heavily armed enemies. This was what they had wanted for so long; to live where they wanted to live without having to worry about some asshole Feds blowing them up for trespassing. Well, they still had to worry about the pirates, but that was just semantics at this point.

She could tell Doyle and his men were still looking down on them, though. Dirty terrorists, she heard them whisper behind their backs. Some were stupid enough to say it out loud and started a fight that poor Agent Washington had to rush to break up. So what if her men weren't used to having working showers? Whose fault was that for driving them underground in the first place?! All they needed was a little more time to adjust.

Still, was it a bad thing that she actually missed living in their old underground base just a little?


	307. Ebullient

A/N: I think I might have heard this word before somewhere...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 3rd, Ebullient_

 _1\. Overflowing with fervor, enthusiasm, or excitement; high-spirited._

 _2\. Bubbling up like a boiling liquid._

* * *

Optimism was a rare commodity in Blood Gulch.

Being a pessimist meant that you were proven right or pleasantly surprised, so most of them came to the agreement that this was the best way to go through life. They just took life as it came, and took the consequences as they came, because there wasn't really anything they could do about it, so why bother? As Church said, "Things can't get any better, and they can't get any worse, so get used to it, Nancy; quit your bitching." The only exceptions to this rule seemed to be Donut and Caboose, of course.

99% of the time, these two managed to stay in good spirits, regardless of the circumstances. However, if something happened that did manage to bring those two down, that meant something needed to be done. With Caboose, it was usually if something bad happened to Church or was going to happen to Church. Donut, on the other hand, was surprisingly harder to bring down. Even something like getting shot just annoyed him a little, and he was quick to forgive if the shooter was sincerely sorry about doing it. But during the darkest parts of the Chorus civil war, even he found it hard to smile.

When things got this bad, something had to be done to make it better, or else the mood would continue to drop. A miserable Donut quickly made everyone around him miserable. When other people were upset, he'd do something outrageous to either get their minds off of it or cheer them up, but what could they do for him other than get rid of the problem?


	308. Musette

A/N: Okay, seriously?!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 4th, Musette_

 _1\. A small leather or canvas bag with a shoulder strap, used for carrying personal belongings, food, etc., while hiking, marching, or the like. Also called musette bag._

* * *

Travelling wasn't fun at all.

Cramming as many people as you could into two jeeps and trying to get somewhere far away meant boredom, whining, and annoyance. That was why Carolina usually rode separately from the rest of the group. Wash didn't blame her; he was on the verge of breaking after just a few minutes, and he was way more patient than Carolina was. Not only did he have to put up with the Blues, the Reds' complaints were so loud that he could hear them even from his position.

"Donut, keep your purse out of my lap!"

"It's not a purse! It's a travel bag!"

"Ow! Caboose, move over!"

"Are we there yet?"

'I have to go to the bathroom."

"Caboose, I asked if you had to go before we left!"

It was awful. These guys were the worst road trip partners ever, of all time. He wished he could take off with Carolina, but that would mean sharing a Mongoose with her, and that would be kind of awkward. Plus, she seemed to think his suffering with them was funny. The sooner they got where they needed to go, the better. But for god's sake if he heard Donut try to sing again, he just might shoot him a second time, damn the consequences.

Wait, bad Wash. Shooting friends is bad.


	309. Atemporal

A/N: When you have all the time in the world, what do you do with it?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 5th, Atemporal_

 _1\. Free from limitations of time._

* * *

Finally; enough time to do whatever he wanted.

It really wasn't all it was cracked up to be, but there was no way Grif would admit that. With everyone else gone off on their crazy adventure, he had all the time in the world to himself. But what could he actually do with that time? He'd already napped and ate to the point where he'd actually gotten bored of it; had it really gotten to that point already? Normally, he'd always get interrupted by the craziness around him, so he always had something to do.

But now he had time for himself.

Well, he'd have to find some way to occupy all that extra time he suddenly found himself having. And when he found that stash of volleyballs that Donut had been collecting (he didn't want to know why), well... ideas started making themselves known. This would be a great way to fill all that extra time! It'd take some work, but now that he literally had nothing to do, he could actually get it done! "Hah! In your face, Sarge! I can get shit done!" he yelled at no one, laughing to himself.

Well, he'd have to make a point to learn Spanish. Didn't Tucker have a Spanish-English dictionary lying around somewhere? Better get busy!


	310. Enjambment

A/N: Oh, great, poetry. I never liked having to analyze things for English class; it actually made reading boring!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 6th, Enjambment_

 _1\. (Prosody) The running on of the thought from one line, couplet, or stanza to the next without a syntactical break._

* * *

Caboose's thought processes were weird.

Everyone knew that, but no one really had an idea of exactly how weird. Even the AI that had spent time in his head couldn't fully comprehend how his thoughts worked. They just seemed to only make sense to Caboose. His thoughts all ran along a single track, which should have made them easy to follow. However, everything that he could conceivably think of was on that single track. If something reminded him of something else, his thoughts would focus on that, leaving them one giant run-on sentence.

Of course, he thought everyone thought like this, and that if anyone couldn't keep up with him, they were just stupid. They only called him stupid because they didn't want to admit how stupid they were. If it made sense to him, why didn't it make sense to anyone else? That was a major part of why he seemed to perceive himself as the smartest person in the world. He just didn't get that his way of thinking was completely different from everyone else's.

Andersmith at least seemed to have some understanding. He got that Caboose was smarter than he appeared. Sure, even he couldn't completely stay on track of Caboose's thoughts, but he had a better understanding than most. Perhaps that was why they got along so well. Maybe, someday, Caboose would be able to find someone who really understood. But, really, what were the odds of that?


	311. Logrolling

A/N: You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 7th, Logrolling_

 _1\. (US Politics) The exchange of support or favors, especially by legislators for mutual political gain as by voting for each other's bills._

 _2\. Cronyism or mutual favoritism among writers, editors, or critics, as in the form of reciprocal flattering reviews; back scratching._

* * *

The best way to get the Reds and Blues to do something for you was to make them a deal.

They were selfish at their cores; offering them something they wanted would give them motivation to actually go along with what you wanted. Sometimes it was pretty simple; for example, all Wash needed to do to get the Reds to help him out was demote Grif. He didn't do it officially, but it was enough to please Sarge just the same. Give them what they wanted, and they'd help you if they felt like it. You just needed to know the right time to make your offer.

There were other factors to it, but it usually boiled down to this; if they liked you or were indifferent, giving them what they wanted would be sufficient motivation. However, if they really didn't like you for one reason or another, usually because you threatened one of the few things they actually cared about, then whatever you offered them, they would refuse to take your deal out of spite. Felix learned that one the hard way when he tried to bribe them with a way off of Chorus. It certainly didn't help that it was most likely a trap anyway.

Lesson learned; no matter what you may think of them, always try to stay on the good side of the idiots who keep managing to save the galaxy. There might just be more to them than you know.


	312. Razzle-Dazzle

A/N: Always try to look beneath the surface.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 8th, Razzle-Dazzle_

 _1\. (Informal) Showiness, brilliance, or virtuosity in technique or effect, often without concomitant substance or worth; flashy theatricality._

* * *

No wonder no one had seen Felix for what he really was.

Felix was a sociopath, plain and simple. He had no qualms with manipulating people to get whatever it was he wanted. He didn't care that what he did caused so much suffering; he just wanted to ensure his own comfort. In order to hide this, he needed to carefully craft his image to make sure no one saw what lay beneath. He'd had to have spent years carefully putting his facade together, and had years of experience tweaking it based on his interactions with people over the years. Compared to him, the people of Chorus were just children.

His personality was purposefully designed to draw attention away from his actions. As long as people focused on his seemingly carefree, stern but fair outer appearance, they didn't notice the dark thoughts hidden beneath the surface. Not even Locus noticed this, and the two had been partners for years. Hiding your true intentions behind a mask wasn't anything new, but Felix had made it an art form.

The problem was that once someone saw beneath the mask, they couldn't be fooled again. The contrast between his mask and his true self was just too great for that. That was why he made it a point to kill anyone who did. If anyone knew the truth, they could easily tell someone else and greatly hinder his work. The fewer people who knew, the better, and there was nothing fewer than no one.


	313. Earthshine

A/N: More astronomy... I'll give it a try.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 9th, Earthshine_

 _1\. (Astronomy) The faint illumination of the part of the moon not illuminated by sunlight, as during a crescent phase, caused by the reflection of light from the earth._

* * *

The moon doesn't make its own light; it reflects the sun's light.

North was always the twin everyone noticed. He was polite, smart, talented, and an all-around nice guy. What did South have in comparison? She was foul-tempered, aggressive, impulsive, and kept screwing things up because she got carried away. Most people knew her as 'the problem twin' or 'North's sister'. Was she even going to get a chance to show that she was just as good as him, maybe even better? Not likely, at this rate.

It wasn't fair; she deserved her chance to shine on her own. But no matter how hard she tried, she could never measure up to the radiance of her oh-so-perfect brother. Even during down time, so few people wanted to be around her, but they just seemed to flock to him. Sure, she had Connie, but that bitch ended up betraying them in the end. To her, that was worse than having nothing. Even Wash, who seemed to go out of his way to try to please everybody, kept her at arms reach.

If her stupid brother wasn't around, people would finally start seeing her for her, instead of always comparing the two. If he wasn't around, she'd finally be able to show off how brightly she could shine. In the end, she got her chance.

In the end, she failed, dying not in a blaze of glory, but sputtering out pathetically.


	314. Arete

A/N: I heard this word a while back and didn't even know it was a word!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 10th, Arete_

 _1\. The aggregate of qualities, as valor and virtue, making up good character._

* * *

York was a good person, through and through.

Carolina would never have been able to deny that. Sure, he was sarcastic and loved to tease people. Sure, his pranks could get more than a little out of hand. But he was never mean-spirited; if he was, they'd be much worse. Sure, he got into fights with Wyoming a lot, but Wyoming usually started them, and York just retaliated proportionate to the offence. Aside from these little things, he was an absolute gentleman.

He was always keeping an eye on the others; not near smothering like North, but more of a 'I'll-be-around-if-you-need-me' kind of way. He flirted, but he backed off if he was making someone uncomfortable. He mostly used the flirting to distract Carolina if she was in one of her rough moods anyways. He had a good sense of humor and was able to break tension easily with a joke appropriate for the situation. Even his own injuries never really got him down. He was quick to forgive if the offender was genuinely sorry; that was how he became such good friends with Tex.

The best part about him, however, was his sense of justice. He always tried to do the right thing, no matter if he got hurt in the process. It was really too bad that she couldn't learn to appreciate that part of him before it was too late. She'd only managed to make him suffer in the end. If only she'd listened to him; she'd been too blinded by her rage and pride to appreciate the fact that if he was doing something, he genuinely believed he was doing good.


	315. Fortitudinous

A/N: There've been a lot of words like this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 11th, Fortitudinous_

 _1\. Marked by bravery or courage; having or showing fortitude._

* * *

Doyle was far from the bravest soldier. Kimball had enough bravery for both of them.

The two were very good examples of what too much and too little bravery could do. Kimball, being the braver of the two, was also a lot more impulsive. She was quick to take action without even considering any of the potential consequences. Doyle, meanwhile, being the less brave, was far too cautious. He always thought and never acted. The only reason he ever got anything done as leader of the Federal army was because he had Locus, Dr. Grey or Wash to do things for him.

In a way, they helped each other out. If they could get along rather than arguing all the time, they could really help to improve each other. Kimball could motivate Doyle to take action when needed. Meanwhile, Doyle could help temper Kimball's fire and get her to focus on the consequences of her actions. But instead, all that potential was wasted on the two arguing about who was being stupider about how they handled things. Kimball called Doyle a coward, while Doyle called Kimball a reckless fool. It was sad that they noticed each others flaws, but they made no attempt to fix them. Whether it was spite towards each other or just plain stubbornness, no one knew.

Whatever the case, they needed to get their acts together quickly, or more people were going to die.


	316. Eurythmic

A/N: I just realized; there are a lot of words that make good band names.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 12th, Eurythmic_

 _1\. Characterized by a pleasing rhythm; harmoniously ordered or proportioned._

 _2\. Of or relating to eurythmics._

* * *

They actually weren't half bad.

The band (they still couldn't agree on the name) always used Blue base to practice because the majority of the members were Blues. Of course, that meant that whenever Wash came to base for one reason or another, he'd get to listen to them practice. Despite the stereotypes that garage bands all sounded bad, these guys were actually really good. When had they had the time to learn how to play?

There were actually many studies about how music had therapeutic effects. Something about benefits to heart and brain health? Well, in any case, it was certainly a big help for him. When he felt stressed out, he'd see if he could just catch the guys and discretely listen in on their rehearsals. He could actually fall asleep to this; it was just that relaxing. Maybe one of these days he'd let them know he'd been listening in and watch a performance live or something. This was just fine for now, though.

"Hey. I hear you boys are looking for a singer."

...Oh, God, no. Retreat!


	317. Wastrel

A/N: I think a lot of people fit into this category these days, sadly.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 13th, Wastrel_

 _1\. A wasteful person; spendthrift._

 _2\. (Chiefly British) (a) Refuse, waste. (b) A waif; abandoned child. (c) An idler or good-for-nothing._

* * *

Tex's first impression of the Blood Gulch Blues was not a good one.

The Reds over on the other side of the canyon were some of the dumbest she had ever seen. Did they seriously need her help to deal with them? How pathetic did they have to be to not be able to do this themselves? The fact that one of them was obviously too dumb to really be scared of her only lowered her opinion. Didn't this teal idiot get that she didn't want to talk to him? Whatever; she wouldn't have to spend any more time than needed around these wastes of perfectly good weapons and ammo.

And then she got captured and they had to go and rescue her.

Church, asshole that he was, just had to rub it in that she owed them now. At the very least, they weren't as useless as she had initially thought if they were able to pull this off. Church most likely pulled most of the weight, knowing him, but he wouldn't have been able to do it alone. Not to mention seeing him get all pissed off about getting shot really made her day. So her opinion of them had grown, but only a little bit. She supposed they did have their uses.

Little did she know what they'd be able to pull off someday.


	318. Pneumatic

A/N: Tell me you haven't wanted a human-sized version of those pneumatic tube systems; they'd be great for getting around!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 14th, Pneumatic_

 _1\. Of or relating to air, gases, or wind._

 _2\. Of or relating to pneumatics._

 _3\. Operated by air or by the pressure or exhaustion of air._

* * *

"Let me guess; Grif's idea?"

"Oh, yeah."

Sighing, Carolina looked over the damage. From the looks of things, Grif tried to hide in the ventilation ducts to get out of training, but he'd gotten stuck. His body was halfway hanging out, his legs kicking in the air as he struggled to get further in and away from her. What part of him had thought this was a good idea? Wash could barely fit in there, and Grif was at least twice his size. Simmons just gave her a long suffering look, a look that told her that this was normal and she'd better start getting used to it if she was going to stick around.

"Dr. Grey can't spare any lubricants to get him loose, and Donut refused to part with his," Wash reported, blushing awkwardly at having to talk to his superior officer about lube. "Any ideas?"

"Can't we just run some extra air through? The pressure will build up and he'll pop right out!" Tucker suggested.

"This isn't a single tube, Tucker, this is the ventilation system for the entire base," Wash retorted. Tucker didn't seem too put off.

"Yeah, but we don't really need all of it right now, right? We could redirect all the air flow to this spot in the meantime. Hey, Church, the base can go without it for a minute or two, right? We can just go outside if poisonous gas leaks in or some shit like that."

Church actually seemed to be considering it. "You know what? I think this could work. We'd need a hell of a lot of pressure, but if we do this right, he'll pop out like a cork. Someone better be here to catch him so he doesn't try to jump back in again," he suggested.

"My job as usual," Simmons sighed. "Let me know when you're doing it."

Carolina was honestly surprised. Then again, spending time with these guys ensured constant surprises. They had surprisingly good ideas sometimes, and it always got her interested in what else they could come up with.


	319. Attenuate

A/N: I'm well aware of how this works.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 15th, Attenuate_

 _1\. To weaken or reduce in force, intensity, effect, quantity, or value._

 _2\. To make thin; make slender or fine._

 _3\. (Bacteriology, Immunology) To render less virulent, as a strain of pathogenic virus or bacterium._

* * *

Was she going soft?

Carolina couldn't help wondering this. People were less afraid of her than they had been before. This was a good thing, of course, it wouldn't do to have her allies afraid of her. But it seemed like her enemies weren't as afraid of her either. Was she less of a threat than she had been before? Church said she wasn't, but it was pretty much in his job description to flatter her and try to make her feel better about herself. But no matter what he said, she couldn't shake this feeling that she was somehow weaker than she had been before.

It didn't seem like her punches were any weaker, she thought to herself, as she practiced. Was it all in her head? Frustrated, she punched the wall and left a dent in the metal. "Don't break the base any more than it already is," Wash scolded, making her blush. How long had he been watching for? He seemed to at least catch on that something was wrong and she'd needed to vent, so he hadn't approached her earlier. "What's on your mind?" he finally asked.

"Do you think I'm going soft?" she blurted out. He seemed a little surprised, but he regained his composure pretty quickly.

"Maybe. But it's not a bad thing," he answered. "How do I put this... you're a lot easier to talk to now. Communication was one of the big problems we had before, and now that we're past that, we can only get better from here."

Damn it, he was right. How had he gotten so mature without her noticing? "Still, if it's making me weaker..." she trailed off.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing either. Look, before, you were taking everything on alone. Now you've figured out you don't have to. That's a lot better for you in the long run, if you want my opinion," he explained.

Damn it, right again. He'd really gotten good at making her feel better. So what if she was going soft? As long as she could still do what she needed to do to protect her team, that was alright. And if she needed help, she'd always have it.


	320. Scrimshank

A/N: One particular person comes to mind yet again...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 16th, Scrimshank_

 _1\. (British Slang) To avoid one's obligations or share of work; shirk._

* * *

It just wasn't fair.

Sarge knew Grif was lazy. He knew he would make any excuse to get out of work. So why wasn't he actually doing anything about it other than yelling at him? Grif would just shrug it off and get back to whatever he was doing that wasn't work, leaving Simmons to do both of their shares. When they got Donut, it got worse, because Grif had more people he could just pawn his work off of with some lame excuse.

It had become a game to him at this point. 'If Sarge catches me not working, what excuse can I come up with to frustrate him so much that he won't actually do anything about what I'm not doing?' And he was winning; the workloads Simmons and Donut had to put up with were the result. Someday, all of this laziness would catch up to him and he'd be punished for it, right?

In the meantime, he had to deal with Grif's smug look as he watched them working, under the pretense that he was 'supervising'. He was half-asleep, for crying out loud! Everyone knew Grif could fall asleep standing up if you let him! But if he complained, he'd be showing displeasure with how Sarge ran things, and he couldn't do that. All he could do was bite his tongue and wait for karma to catch up to Grif.

"You missed a spot."

...Any day now.


	321. Claque

A/N: I don't know; I think having these around would just be annoying.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 17th, Claque_

 _1\. A group of persons hired to applaud an act or performer._

 _2\. A group of sycophants._

* * *

Urgh, just what he needed; a kiss-ass.

Simmons was bad enough, but then Grif himself ended up in a position of power and he got Matthews. Most people would assume that having someone eager to run errands for him and get into trouble for him would make Grif very happy. It didn't; quite the opposite actually. Everyone who actually knew Grif would know that he preferred being around people who weren't afraid to speak up for themselves. As he always said, no one likes a kiss-ass. So to them, it made sense why he preferred Bitters over Matthews.

It really got Simmons thinking, observing the three of them. They honestly reminded him of their old team in Blood Gulch, before everything went nuts. Maybe Grif was starting to see things from a similar point of view to Sarge. Did that mean... Sarge found his attention annoying? Was that why he always got brushed off? The only way to know for sure was to ask Sarge himself, but there was no way he'd be brave enough to do that. For now, he'd just keep watching this odd little mirror he'd found; maybe if Matthews somehow managed to succeed in impressing Grif, he could find a similar way to impress Sarge.

...Not likely, if how the kid was getting completely ignored was any indication.


	322. Nonbook

A/N: These are always disappointing.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 18th, Nonbook_

 _1\. A book without artistic or literary merit or substance, especially one that has been developed primarily to exploit a fad or make a profit quickly._

 _2\. Of or relating to such a book._

 _3\. Of or indicating what is not a book._

* * *

Church read when he was particularly bored.

Flowers had this old collection of actual books, with pages and everything. Something about enjoying the feel of turning pages by hand. When he died, Church sort of inherited his room and all of its contents along with the leadership position. One particular night, when he couldn't sleep and he couldn't think of anything to do to stave off his boredom, he decided to try reading one. One book lead to another and before he knew it, he'd fallen asleep with his nose in a book. He'd never thought people could actually do that prior to this.

He took to using them as a sleep aid after that. Like everything else, sometimes they worked, and sometimes they didn't. But at the very least he didn't have to waste time lying awake and desperately hoping he could bore himself to sleep. He preferred the technical books himself; getting in a little learning every now and again never hurt anyone. Tucker called him a nerd, but the only books Tucker dared to read were his filthy magazines, so who was he to judge?

But eventually, he read through every book multiple times, and they just weren't doing anything for him anymore. Sighing, he decided to try walking again; maybe that would help.


	323. Macaronic

A/N: Quite a few songs I listen to are like this; it makes them sound more interesting in my opinion.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 19th, Macaronic_

 _1\. Composed of a mixture of languages._

 _2\. Composed of or characterized by Latin words mixed with vernacular words or non-Latin words given Latin endings._

 _3\. Mixed; jumbled._

* * *

It took a week for anyone to figure out that Grif had learned Spanish.

It just slipped out. Everyone had been cleaning up the bases and dealing with the mess Grif had left before going to rescue them. Of course, Grif wasn't among them; he was 'supervising' again. Simmons had finally had enough and had yelled at him. "Grif! This whole thing was your mess in the first place! We shouldn't have to clean up after you like this!"

" _Usted no puede hacerlo usted mismo? Ni siquiera es tan grande,_ " he shot back. (You can't do it yourself? It's not even that big.) There was a moment of silence before Grif realized what he let slip. "Crap," he groaned, knowing what was coming next.

"You know Spanish?!"

"Had to learn," he shrugged. "I had a lot of free time on my hands."

"Grif! Why didn't you say anything earlier?! Any tactical advantages against the Blues of any sorts must be immediately reported to your superior officer!" Sarge barked.

"No one asked," he sighed.

"Wait, so you can understand Lopez now?" Simmons questioned, getting a nod. "Great! No more language barrier! Can you teach me?"

This was why he hadn't said anything; way much more trouble than it was worth.


	324. Deontology

A/N: Oh, great, ethics again...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 20th, Deontology_

 _1\. Ethics, especially that branch dealing with duty, moral obligation, and right action._

* * *

What is 'right'?

Depending on the situation, what is 'right' for one person may not be right for someone else, or for a group of people. For example, for Locus. 'right' was following orders. However, this was bad for the people of Chorus, who he had been ordered to kill. Their 'soldiers' were basically just civilians in armor. Is it 'right' to murder civilians, even if they have armor and were essentially playing at being soldiers? It took far longer than it should for him to realize that the answer was no.

He'd gone on a soul searching journey after putting that debacle behind him. He needed to reevaluate his way of thinking. A long time ago, he would have easily been able to say that killing civilians was wrong; had war and Felix changed him that much? What was he thinking; of course it had! He'd thrown away his own identity, his own sense of morals, all in pursuit of being a 'true soldier', because he thought that was what he needed to do, because he thought it was 'right'. And Felix had continued to let him think that for his own self-benefit rather than scold him and tell him he was wrong.

Well, now Felix was gone. He could finally start making an effort to put himself back together. It would take time, but eventually he'd be able to remember what Sam had believed was 'right' all those years ago. Only... that was still him, wasn't it. He'd have to get used to that. Reconciling his old self with his new self wouldn't be easy, but it was the right thing to do, without a doubt. That way, no more innocent people would have to suffer because of his mistakes, because he'd have enough of a moral code to know not to do it.


	325. Footloose

A/N: I think pretty much everyone would want to be this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 21st, Footloose_

 _1\. Free to go or travel about; not confined by responsibilities._

* * *

Being retired was awesome!

Tucker loved not having to do anything he didn't want to do. No more Wash yelling at him to get out of bed in the mornings; he could sleep in as late as he wanted now! No more having to put up with Caboose; he wasn't duty obligated to keep an eye on him anymore, and if he got to be too annoying, he could just go somewhere else to avoid him. Heck, he didn't even have to fight the Reds anymore! They were still split because of old habits, of course, but they weren't actively trying to murder each other anymore. Even Sarge was easing up, if only slightly.

Sure, crazy shit still went down sometimes, and they still had to do something about it, but compared to Chorus, it was nothing. Besides, watching the robot vs dinosaur fight had been the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. Even Wash was excited, which he didn't see too often. Maybe retirement was finally helping the guy to learn how to relax and enjoy life. Carolina was on her way, but she still had a few kinks to work out. At least she was making an effort.

Yep, this was perfection. It was like their canyon lives, but with much less stress. Who knew all they needed to do to make everything work out was stop taking everything seriously and just chill? Well, he and Grif had a feeling it was like that, but they didn't expect to be proven right, much less everyone agreeing with them. The carefree life really was the best option for them after everything they'd been through.

But of course, they were all too quick to jump back into action.


	326. Bakemeat

A/N: This kinda makes sense, if you think about it.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 22nd, Bakemeat_

 _1\. (Obsolete) Pastry; pie._

 _2\. (Obsolete) Cooked food, especially a meat pie._

* * *

Ironic; Grif, the guy who loved food the most, couldn't cook.

Simmons couldn't stop laughing the first time he heard it, which made Grif mad and they spent the rest of the day yelling. Even now he snickered at the thought, but these days Grif just rolled his eyes and tried to ignore it. So what if his sister did all the cooking because he kept screwing up? That was why he preferred premade food; much less chance for mistakes, and much less work.

Simmons hadn't been able to stifle his curiosity this time, and avoiding his usual way of dealing with questions about Grif he wanted answered (wait for him to say something about it and put the pieces together on his own time) he'd instead decided to directly ask Sister about it. She started laughing so hard she nearly passed out, which only confirmed his suspicions that there was a good story involved in this.

"Okay, so Dex tried to make pie for Thanksgiving a few years ago. You'd think he'd learned from the turkey incident the year before that, but whatever." Mental note; ask about the turkey incident. "So of course the usual problems with him cooking pop up; eating the ingredients, turning the heat up too high to get it cooked faster, falling asleep when he was supposed to be watching it. That's why we know all the firemen on a first-name basis! Well, one of the reasons. Turns out working with those huge hoses gives them a lot of practice where it counts!"

"Yeah. Wait, what?"


	327. Scrummy

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to the Americans! We had it a month ago.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 23rd, Scrummy_

 _1\. (Chiefly British Informal) Very pleasing, especially to the senses; delectable; splendid; scrumptious._

* * *

This was why they let Donut cook.

They'd gotten a shipment of food just in time for Thanksgiving, and Donut immediately strapped in and got to work. Sarge had gotten Caboose to do bodyguard duty for them, keeping Grif out of the kitchen so that there'd be some food left for them by dinnertime. In exchange, of course, they'd be sharing dinner with the Blues, but Sarge was the only one who really complained about that, and it was half-hearted at best. As long as he didn't bring out the shotgun, no one particularly cared.

With what few resources they had, somehow Donut was able to put together a massive feast. It smelled so good that even Carolina was drooling, though she tried really hard not to let anyone know that she was. Come to think of it, this was her first time taking part in their annual Thanksgiving truce. Fighting on Thanksgiving just seemed wrong, so they never bothered. This was the first time they'd been able to get together a feast like this; before, they just made do with their rations. Now they could finally celebrate Thanksgiving the way it was supposed to be celebrated.

At this point, it didn't matter if they were Red, Blue, or Freelancer; a mutual love of good food brought them all together as one big crazy family.


	328. Pennyworth

A/N: Eventually no one's going to know this word in Canada; we've stopped making pennies because they're worthless.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 24th, Pennyworth_

 _1\. A bargain._

 _2\. As much as may be bought for a penny._

 _3\. A small quantity._

* * *

For a penny pincher, Tex was surprisingly cheap.

It certainly helped that her definition of haggling was 'give it to me for the price I want and I won't bust your balls'. She'd take every opportunity she could to save money, even if it meant cutting some corners. Her body needed maintenance, but she often did a patch job or skipped it entirely to save on money. After all, when you're on the run, every cent counts. Too bad she wasn't the best at managing her money, often spending it on proper care for her weapons over proper care of her body.

Sometimes she'd go find York and try to bum something off of him. Most of the time, it didn't work; she couldn't threaten him because he was one of the few actual friends she had, and he needed food more than she needed repairs. But every now and again he'd assist her with her patch jobs to make them last a little longer, or offer her a little extra he'd gotten from a job. He called it the 'Tex charity fund' and had to dodge a thrown rock for his troubles.

Luckily for her, Sarge's work was good quality. She didn't need repairs nearly as often, and if she did, she could just 'persuade' him to fix her up. There were few people she trusted with doing this kind of work, and Sarge was one of those rare few. Sure, he put a bomb in Church's body once, but he hadn't done anything to offend her personally, so he was okay in her books. Besides, he liked her. He even tried to get her to join Red team, justifying it by saying that she wasn't actually Blue.

As long as she could stay properly armed, she was okay. If she could cut any corners to make that happen, she would.


	329. Torporific

A/N: I think the pressures of life are this for a lot of people. I don't wanna adult...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 25th, Toporific_

 _1\. Causing sluggish activity or inertia._

* * *

Sarge yelling only made Grif less inclined to do things.

After all, he was going to get yelled at anyway. Might as well get yelled at while he was doing something he actually wanted to do. Sarge seemed to be under the impression that the solution for Grif's laziness was more yelling, but too much yelling actually seemed to make him lazier, if that was possible. He didn't get that, decided to yell more in order to try and motivate him, which only made Grif want to work less, and this continued on and on in a vicious circle with no end in sight. All the yelling really did was make things less productive at Red base.

Simmons wanted to step in and try to fix things, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't motivate Grif to work, and Sarge wouldn't listen to him even if he did somehow manage to find the guts to tell him off. The best he could do at this point was do Grif's share of the work so that it actually got done. If it didn't they'd be in trouble if something ever went down with the Blues.

And of course, the one thing Grif was left in charge of was the one thing they needed. Whose bright idea was it to put him in charge of their ammo again? He always ran out of ammo and never brought more! That had been a recipe for disaster from the beginning. And of course the Blues had taken the opportunity to humiliate Grif, which Sarge had taken with gusto. He wouldn't be surprised if Grif went to find a spot to nap as soon as they got back to base.


	330. Hearth

A/N: A nice warm fireplace on a cold winter night; sounds wonderful.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 26th, Hearth_

 _1\. Home; fireside._

 _2\. The floor of a fireplace, usually of stone, brick, etc., often extending a short distance into a room._

* * *

There was never any time for homesickness to set in.

Some didn't have good home lives. Some had no home to go back to. Some just wanted to stay away from their families for whatever reason. Some just couldn't remember what they had left behind. But whatever the case, none of them missed whatever they had left behind when they signed up. With how much time they had spent together, they had managed to make their own home away from home wherever they ended up setting up their bases. They'd only really noticed this after they'd retired and had no need to keep antagonizing each other.

Of course, it wasn't perfect. No home is. There was fighting, there was complaining, and there were even a few explosions here and there, figuratively and literally. But it was all they needed. They'd complain about each other, but where else could they really go? They sort of had their own little foster home for abandoned soldiers out here. As much as some of them might try to deny it, this was home; this was where they belonged. Even the two abandoned Freelancers were able to find a place here in this crazy, wacky little piece of real estate.

Sure, they were living on some shitty real estate somewhere in the asscrack of nowhere, but it was _their_ shitty real estate somewhere in the asscrack of nowhere.


	331. Mazuma

A/N: How many Yiddish words have made it into common English?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 27th, Mazuma_

 _1\. (Slang) Money._

* * *

They were rich!

Who knew selling off their movie rights would get them this much money? This would be enough to repair their bases and then some! Of course, the 'and then some' part was what everyone was focusing on at this point. What could they spend all this extra money on? Wash and Carolina wanted to save it for a rainy day, but the others wanted to splurge; they'd earned it. In the end, the two were out-voted, and now they had to listen to the teams bicker about what they wanted to spend the money on.

"Look, I need to get laid!"

"You got laid before we left Chorus! A lot, if I remember right! You don't need to get laid again for at least a year!"

"Oh, can we get a chocolate fountain?"

"I second that motion!"

"No chocolate fountains! Unless you can get an infinite one, there's no real point."

"Well, I do need to resupply my make-up."

"Donut, you're thinking too small! Think bigger, BIGGER!"

"Bow-chicka-bow-wow."

Wash seemed to have fallen asleep; was this so normal that he didn't even feel the need to get involved anymore? Suggestions kept being fired off left and right, but there was one general agreement; it had to be something everyone could enjoy. Suddenly, Grif got this look in his eyes; a look that just screamed 'crazy idea'. "Guys, two words: water park."

Everyone immediately made to argue, but they paused and actually started thinking it over. Wash, waking from his little doze, seemed interested as well. "It would be something everyone could enjoy," he pointed out.

That did it; that one little agreement got everyone excited. Were they seriously going to spend all this money on a water park? They might not have enough for their bases. But they were set on this idea, and when they were set, no one could change their minds.


	332. Benevolence

A/N: I think everyone already knows this word.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 28th, Benevolence_

 _1\. Desire to do good to others; goodwill; charitableness._

 _2\. An act of kindness; a charitable gift._

 _3\. (English History) A forced contribution to the sovereign._

* * *

You didn't have to be a nice guy to do nice things for someone.

Just like how good people were capable of doing bad things, bad people were capable of doing good things. So it made sense that someone who was in-between would be capable of doing these things as well. For example, the Reds and Blues were a bunch of selfish assholes, as anyone who knew them could tell. But they still went out of their way to do good things for the people of Chorus. Saving them from the pirates could just be brushed off as 'they pissed us off', but they did so much more for them that couldn't be explained with just that.

They told them stories about all the crazy adventures they went on. They helped them feel better when they started losing hope. They brought both armies together, stopping them from killing each other. And when everything was over, the only thing they asked for in return was a quiet place where they could be left alone. They weren't nice, far from it, but they still took the time to do good things to help the army, when they could have just done the bare minimum and not given a crap about them.

They were quite the interesting group, that much was certain.


	333. Sagittate

A/N: Makes sense if you think of what the root means.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 29th, Sagittate_

 _1\. Shaped like an arrowhead._

* * *

Archery and sniping were just different enough from each other.

North was great at sniping, no one could deny that. But the grip needed for archery made it just that little bit more difficult for him. He could aim just fine, but he couldn't figure out how to get his fingers in just the right position to make the shot. This was one of the few things South was better at than him, and he was glad to let her have it. Give him a good old fashioned sniper rifle any day.

The last time everyone went on leave together, she decided she wanted to try out an archery range. Much to everyone's surprise, she hit every target, while he struggled to get his arrows to actually reach the target instead of the floor. This was her moment to shine, and he was happy to let her have it. Seeing her smiling like that, he didn't care that he was so far out of his element. Wyoming had tried to compete with her, but just like him, the grip difference threw him off and his shots didn't land. He just shrugged and laughed at the Brit's mounting frustration.

"What can I say? She's really good at this," he laughed when questioned about it later. She smiled right back at him, and for just a moment, everything was like it was when they were kids and did everything together. No competition, no leaderboard, just two siblings hanging out doing something they enjoyed, with out worrying about winning or losing.


	334. Nostrum

A/N: Finally all caught up! And just in time for the home stretch! On another note, how can those anti-vax 'doctors' claim that pharmacies are just out for your money while selling their own homemade quack remedies that don't work? Hypocrisy, much?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _November 30th, Nostrum_

 _1\. A scheme, theory, device, etc., especially one to remedy social or political ills; panacea._

 _2\. A medicine sold with false or exaggerated claims and with no demonstrable value; quack medicine._

 _3\. A medicine made by the person who recommends it._

* * *

Trusting doctors was hard for some people.

Sometimes it was bad experiences, sometimes it was just paranoia, but some people just seemed to think that doctors didn't have their patients' best interests in mind. Well, some didn't, true, but the majority just wanted to help people get better. There were bad seeds in every profession, and medicine was no different, unfortunately. Dr. Grey, at least, was not one of those bad doctors, and quickly became the first doctor Wash could bring himself to trust in a long time (Doc was a medic, not a doctor).

It started off small; she'd poke a little at his boundaries, but she'd pull back if she was making him uncomfortable. She'd look for little openings to do what she needed to do, all the while focusing on keeping him comfortable. At first he didn't want her anywhere near his head while he was conscious, so he'd have to take a sedative to calm down, but eventually he didn't need it anymore because he finally got it in his mind that she wasn't going to try anything funny with his implants unless she got consent. She was slightly crazy, but she still had her sense of ethics, and he could respect that.

Even after leaving Chorus, he still only trusted her to look after him when he needed medical attention. So when he woke up in a hospital bed, still slightly delirious from starvation, and she was right there keeping an eye on him, it was the first time in a long time that he'd felt relieved while in a hospital bed.


	335. Cockcrow

A/N: I don't get how some people can manage to get up before noon and not be grumpy...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 1st, Cockcrow_

 _1\. Daybreak; dawn; the time at which a cock characteristically crows._

* * *

Even after retiring, Wash still couldn't help getting up early.

Honestly, he'd always been an early riser. One less thing he'd had to adjust to when he enlisted. Sure, now that he was retired he didn't need to get up early anymore, but he still enjoyed it. Tucker would call him a crazy person, but Tucker was the kind of guy who would sleep until noon if you let him. If anything, Tucker was the crazy person; who'd want to miss out on some of the benefits you can only get from the early morning?

Watching the sun rise was always nice, and he'd missed it terribly. With everything he'd been doing lately, he never had time to just relax and watch the sun climb up over the horizon. Now he had all the time in the world to catch up on all the little things he'd missed while he'd been working himself to the bone. This was just the first, but it was certainly one that he appreciated.

Carolina came up to join him soon enough; she couldn't get out of the habit of getting up early. She brought their drinks, as usual; coffee for him, tea for her. Neither said a word, not wanting to break the peace of the morning. This was one of the few times where they could enjoy peace and quiet before something blew up or someone started an argument with someone. Most of the time, it was Sarge, who still didn't get that they didn't have to get up early if they didn't want to and Grif could sleep in without being called a lazy dirtbag.

For now, they just enjoyed a rare moment of silence together.


	336. Literatim

A/N: I don't get sarcasm sometimes.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 2nd, Literatim_

 _1\. Letter-for-letter; literally._

* * *

Caboose tended to take things literally. No big surprise there.

People had to be really careful what they said around Caboose, because if they used an expression, Caboose wouldn't know what they meant and would take it literally. The last time Tucker got annoyed and said 'go jump in a lake' without thinking about it, Caboose ran all over Blood Gulch trying to find a lake that he could jump into. He thought that since Tucker told him to do that, there had to be water somewhere, and he was really really thirsty. It took five hours for Church to catch him and tell him off for taking it literally.

Caboose didn't quite get it; why say something if you didn't mean it? This problem popped up every now and again, but they were relatively minor incidents in comparison. Sarge saying 'hop to it'. Grif saying 'I could eat a horse' (Grif then made a point of explaining the difference between could and would). Church saying 'you're killing me', which was only literal a few times. And of course, Tucker was the biggest offender, actually making a game out of seeing just how literally he would take some expressions.

What was the point of that? Wasn't it just lying?


	337. Gerontocracy

A/N: Yeah, Chorus is kind of the opposite of this...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 3rd, Gerontocracy_

 _1\. A state or government in which old people rule._

 _2\. Government by a council of elders._

 _3\. A governing body consisting of old people._

* * *

Chorus was governed by children.

That was the big excuse the UNSC was going for when it came to saying that they shouldn't be allowed to govern themselves. Kimball almost laughed; whose fault was that? If they hadn't been abandoned in the first place, if the UNSC had just bothered to take notice, so many lives could have been saved. Now, only the young remained; mostly children, but there were at least a few adults that had managed to survive. Even now they weren't even bothering to pay attention to the facts.

The only thing she could really do about this was to try and handle things as maturely as possible. Losing her temper because these crusty old bigwigs kept pissing her off would only prove their point that she wasn't mature enough to handle things. She'd just have to stay calm, get help from Santa and Dr. Grey when she needed it, and navigate this situation as carefully as possible. It was their only hope for keeping a hold of their newly-found independence. Sighing, she gave Doyle a little scratch behind the ears, eliciting a gentle purr from the kitten.

She may have had the experience disadvantage in this situation, but she'd be damned if she was going to lose now.


	338. Xanadu

A/N: Everybody want some kind of paradise that suits their every need.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 4th, Xanadu_

 _1\. A place of great beauty, luxury, and contentment._

* * *

They always got the shittiest real estate.

Really, every single time the Reds and Blues found a place to settle down, it was always some backwater canyon in the asscrack of nowhere. Blood Gulch was scorching hot, Sidewinder was freezing cold (luckily they didn't stay long), Valhalla was the nicest by far but still just a canyon in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do, and on Chorus they were shipwrecked and trying to survive before getting dragged into a civil war.

But that was the thing; no one else would ever think to look for them in these places.

Their new retirement bases were the first non-canyons they'd lived in in a long time. Sure, it wasn't without its problems, but they were doing a lot better than before. Especially since all of their supplies came from Chorus now. Now that things had settled down again, they were getting regular shipments of supplies, and if they wanted something in particular, they'd just put in a request and throw in some proper compensation. This was the best place ever, without a doubt.

It was flawed, of course, but it was still their paradise.


	339. Logomachy

A/N: These guys do this a lot.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 5th, Logomachy_

 _1\. A dispute about or concerning words._

 _2\. An argument or debate marked by the reckless or incorrect use of words; meaningless battle of words._

 _3\. A game played with cards, each bearing one letter, with which words are formed._

* * *

How hard could it be to use the word 'ironic' properly?

There were constant debates about what was ironic and what wasn't between the Reds and Blues. Oftentimes these debates would last somewhere around two hours. They'd completely ignore anything else that was going on in favor of trying to prove that they were right. Carolina just sighed; was it really that important? She and Wash were stuck supervising another debate on whether or not the situation was ironic, and she couldn't have been more bored.

"I still say dying as food is ironic," Grif argued.

"Only for you," Simmons pointed out. "If any of us got eaten, it wouldn't be."

"Would it be ironic if Sarge got eaten instead of Griff?" Caboose asked.

"No. Besides, they wouldn't go for Sarge; he's too tough. Grif's nice and fat, so they'd eat him first," Tucker explained.

"Hey, Simmons is slower! Wouldn't they eat him first?" Grif snapped.

"No way! I'm half-metal; I wouldn't taste good!" he protested.

And they got off topic again and were going to start rambling randomly about something that had nothing to do with the previous conversation. She glanced over at Wash, who gave her his nonchalant 'this is normal' shrug. Just another example of idiocy from the professionals on the matter.


	340. Palmy

A/N: So, the exact opposite of Blood Gulch real estate.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 6th, Palmy_

 _1\. Glorious, prosperous, or flourishing._

 _2\. Abounding in or shaded with palms._

 _3\. Palmlike._

* * *

Hot was bad enough; did it have to be so dry?

Tucker hated Blood Gulch from the moment he first set foot in it. It was hot, dry, and to top it all off, boring. Why couldn't he have gotten stationed on a beachfront or something? Sure, it'd still be hot, but at least he'd be able to go swimming to cool off! To top it off, some asshole in the higher ranks seemed to have forgotten to ship them water, too, so they had to make do with what they got. Coffee without water just tasted weird...

He almost hated getting stranded on Chorus more. This time it was a wet heat instead of a dry heat; the humidity was killing him! Having water was better than having no water, but that was really the only advantage. At least they could finally get some normal tasting coffee; Tucker didn't want to think about how bad Wash's moodiness would be if he didn't get his morning coffee. If it could just be a little cooler, that's be great!

Well, their retirement home fit the bill just fine. No more need to complain. It was no beachfront, but it was nice all the same. Now if they could just do something about Donut skinny-dipping whenever he got too bored...


	341. Gleek

A/N: Yes, Glee fans, this is a real word.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 7th, Gleek_

 _1\. (Archaic) To make a joke; jest._

* * *

"Hey, Dad! Mom's drunk again!"

South groaned; seriously, that joke was getting old. She didn't know how exactly everyone had found out about North's weird reactions to drugs, but they had. Nowadays, the medical personnel didn't bother trying to stop him from slipping out of the med bay; he never got himself hurt, he just annoyed people. York had started the joke, based on the fact that North was pretty much the mom around them, and the joke just got bigger from there. Nowadays, whenever North started stumbling around after getting a little too much of the good stuff, someone would, without fail, say some variation of 'mom's drunk, better get dad'.

Sure enough, she found him half-conscious in the locker room, clinging to Carolina's leg. She just looked amused; must've been a good day. Wash was trying not to laugh, York was outright failing, and even Maine was shaking with the effort to not join in. She rolled her eyes and grabbed his shoulder. "Hey, bro, get your ass to bed." Being direct often helped when he was like this.

"But she's so soft!" he slurred. "She's like a little kitten!" Wash choked, York laughed even harder, and even Carolina seemed to be trying not to snicker. If they could stop laughing at the sideshow and actually help her, that would be very much appreciated!

"Yeah, I know. I'm pretty soft too, you know." Maybe she could bribe him into letting go.

"Nah, you're more like a... what's the word... porcuswine?" He looked so confused. "No, that's not it... porcu... porcupig!"

"Yeah, that sounds about right!" York laughed. If her brother wasn't drunkenly embarrassing himself right now, she'd strangle them both.

"Well, I hear their quills are pretty smooth if you just pet the sides," she pressed. He paused, thinking about it for a moment, then immediately let go and got his arms around her waist. Wash finally broke, poor kid.

"Wow, you're right! You're so smooth!" She blushed as he pressed his face into her belly, trying to ignore the laughing.

"Yeah, great. Hey, big guy! Little help here?!" Maine finally pulled himself together and picked the both of them up. "Thanks. Straight shot to Vodka Drunkinski's room, if you don't mind."

"Yay! Cuddle time!" She sighed again, but this time a bit more fondly. Whenever this happened, they'd usually end up cuddling until he got better; he was a hugger with an iron grip. Might as well resign herself to her fate; an afternoon, at least, spent in bed with her brother. Well, it could be worse; York could show up and start taking pictures. Luckily, Maine was enough of a deterrent about 90% of the time.


	342. Dundrearies

A/N: Only one person I can think of who fits this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 8th, Dundrearies_

 _1\. Long, full sideburns or muttonchop whiskers._

* * *

If there were two things Wyoming could take pride in, they were his work ethic and his facial hair.

York didn't particularly like it, but who cared what that uncultured idiot thought? He couldn't even pick a lock without setting off the alarms! Though, it wasn't just him that didn't have a taste for it. He'd heard South muttering once that it made him look like the kind of person who tied damsels to train tracks, which apparently Connie thought was hilarious. Well, whatever they thought, he liked it, and that was that.

Well, Florida liked it too. Just another reason why they got along so well.

He appreciated the effort it took to get it looking just right every day. Sometimes, when he felt like it, he'd get some of the supplies Wyoming needed without him ever mentioning that he was running low. That level of dedication to helping prevent these little inconveniences was both helpful and a little creepy, but then again, that was Florida in a nutshell.

If you really wanted to be Wyoming's friend, all you really had to do was compliment his mustache; that was the best start. If he didn't like you later on, it wouldn't work out, but you'd at least be in his good graces for a little while. The very first thing Gamma did was tell a mustache knock-knock joke; they were going to get along just fine.


	343. Pervious

A/N: Well, if 'impervious' is a word...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 9th, Pervious_

 _1\. Open, accessible to reason, feeling, argument, etc._

 _2\. Admitting of passage or entrance; permeable._

* * *

Taking in a Freelancer was like adopting an abused dog.

There were two major extremes. The first was the Wash-style extreme. He always seemed to think he was going to be attacked, so he kept his guard up all the time. If someone came near him, he tensed, expecting that he'd be punished for something. It took a lot of time and patience, but he eventually put together that none of them intended to hurt him. Eventually, he opened up to them; not fully, but enough to show that he trusted them.

Then there was the Carolina-style extreme. She was overly aggressive because that was how she needed to be, but she didn't need that anymore. Her lashing out frightened people, and then she'd just frustrated because she really was trying, but she couldn't figure out how to act the way they wanted her to act. Slowly, as she got used to the new routine, and the others made an effort to let her know what she was doing wrong, she learned how to adapt to this new, safer environment. She still liked hitting things, but she could find productive things to do with her time if she couldn't hit anything.

The Blues were surprisingly patient; maybe that was why they were so good at this, and why the Reds still didn't have any Freelancers.


	344. Brachylogy

A/N: I like it when people do this; keep it short, sweet, and to the point. Doesn't mean I'm any good at it...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 10th, Brachylogy_

 _1\. Brevity of diction; concise or abridged form of expression._

* * *

To keep their attention, you had to keep it brief.

That was something Wash had learned pretty quickly. The Reds and Blues were easily bored, and if you took too much time explaining and didn't get straight to the point, they'd just stop listening. Carolina had the opposite problem; she said too little and expected everyone to know what she was talking about. You basically had to strike a delicate balance; give enough details for Caboose to get it, but keep it short enough that Grif didn't fall asleep standing up.

It took his a while to figure that out, and initially he'd just been frustrated. This was important information; why couldn't they just listen?! It turned out that they just didn't find all the minor details important, so if he started going on about those, they'd just tune him out and lose interest. If he just focused on the key important details, they'd pay attention. Well, Caboose had difficulty understanding them, but at least he'd be listening. One easy solution to that was to explain it to everyone else first, then give a clearer one to Caboose to make sure he understood.

Acting as a translator for Carolina had become his job now, and he really hoped she'd figure out what she needed to do to talk to them properly before someone snapped out of frustration. Most likely, it was going to be her or him.


	345. Cri de Coeur

A/N: I actually knew what this said before I read the translation! Literally translated, it means 'cry of the heart'.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 11th, Cri de Coeur_

 _1\. (French) An anguished cry of distress or indignation; outcry._

* * *

When Tucker got upset, he got loud.

It was the exact opposite of Caboose. When Caboose was upset, he got scarily quiet. Someone would have to coax him into telling them what was wrong so they could fix it to make him feel better. But Tucker got loud and aggressive when he was upset, and in some ways, that was even harder to deal with. It was equally hard to tell what was wrong, because an angry Tucker was an irrational Tucker. He tended to go off on people for things that weren't their fault, and some things that were their fault, so it was hard to tell what he was really angry about in the first place.

He'd yell, and he'd hit things, and then he'd run off somewhere quiet to vent his frustrations. With Caboose, the best thing to do was to stay close; he hated being alone in any circumstance. Tucker, however, needed solitude. Try and talk to him before he was ready, and he'd just explode on the idiot who tried it. Wash learned that one the hard way after a few pretty bad fights. When he'd gone from aggressive to grumpy, then it was safe to talk to him without getting yelled at. He'd keep to sarcastic commentary until the talker managed to calm him down. If Wash was also in a bad mood, he'd just leave Tucker until he calmed down, swallowed his pride, and finally came to him to explain what was wrong. It was always better to take the option that didn't set things off and make them worse.

Really, it was no wonder he and Church were friends; their aggressive and snarky personalities meant they knew how to deal with each other's issues. They'd usually just yell at each other until one of them got bored and decided to complain about what was wrong instead. And now that Church was gone, he needed to get used to not having someone who could put up with him like that. Wash was okay, but it just wasn't the same.


	346. Wanderjahr

A/N: I think mine's gone on a little too long...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 12th, Wanderjahr_

 _1\. (German) A year or period of travel, especially following one's schooling and before practicing a profession._

 _2\. (German) (Formerly) A year in which an apprentice traveled and improved his skills before settling down to the practice of his trade._

* * *

Being retired was harder than they thought.

Then again, neither Wash nor Carolina had thought that they would live long enough to make it to retirement. They had all this experience, all these skills they'd honed over many years, and now nothing to do with them. Sure, if they got attacked, they'd be able to defend everyone, but what were the odds of that? Now they were left unsure of themselves and trying to figure out what to do. It was definitely easier for Wash, having had some practice living with the Blues for a while, but Carolina was completely stumped.

She'd worked so hard to get where she was, and now it all meant nothing. What was the point of it all? What was she good at doing besides hitting things and barking orders? She was still getting used to not doing that because it annoyed everyone around her. Well, except Sarge, but he was always a little crazy anyways. What was she going to do with her life now? She couldn't just stop and do nothing; that wasn't how she worked. She was an all action, all the time kind of person.

That was the point when she decided to seek out Grif. He was always so lazy, even when he had something to do; maybe he could help her settle down.


	347. Deasil

A/N: You know, I always thought it was weird that people were saying good things were 'diesel'.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 13th, Deasil_

 _1\. (Chiefly Scot) Clockwise or in a direction following the apparent course of the sun; considered as lucky or auspicious._

* * *

Wash's luck was a weird thing.

Depending on who you asked, he was either the luckiest or unluckiest guy ever of all time. Sure, he kept getting into accidents with cars, but he always came out of them relatively fine, and Dr. Grey considered him lucky for not having gotten brain damage at this point (well, brain damage from blunt force trauma at least). A lot of bad things always seemed to happen to him, but he always survived them, for better or for worse. It was bad luck that he kept getting into those situations, but it was good luck that he always made it out somehow.

How could someone's luck be so bad but so good at the same time? It was as if the universe didn't know what it wanted to do with him. People would look at him and say he was lucky to be alive after everything he'd been through, but just as many would call him unlucky for getting dragged into those situations to begin with. The extensive physical and mental damage he'd received over the years was more than any normal person would have been able to take, and he barely was able to keep his sanity in check during the worst days; was that good luck that he survived or bad luck that he had to suffer so much in the first place?

Well, no matter what anyone said, in his honest opinion, getting to spend his days relaxing with these idiots he called friends made him the luckiest man in the galaxy.


	348. Tidings

A/N: Good tidings we bring, to you and your kin...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 14th, Tidings_

 _1\. News, information, or intelligence._

* * *

"Mail call!"

This was unusual; they didn't usually get mail. Most of the Reds and Blues didn't really have anyone that would want to send them anything. Everything was delivered from Chorus, so they'd always check over what was being sent before delivering it. If it was annoying fan mail or someone trying to sell them stupid shit, it got tossed. Usually, the only things that came in were magazines for Tucker and Donut, but those weren't coming in until next week.

Wash, being the early riser that he was, went to go see what that was about, and everyone else just stopped thinking about it. That is, until everyone was finally awake at noon and no one saw Wash at brunch. Slightly concerned, Carolina and Tucker went around checking all of his favorite hiding spots, but there was no sign of him. Finally worried, a search party was put together and everyone (even Grif) searched high and low looking for him. Sure, Wash was good at hiding when he didn't want to be found, but never this good.

Finally, Tucker got the idea to check the last place anyone would think to look; Wash's room. He spent as little time there as possible, so of course no one would think to look there. But if he was in there, what was the reason? Did he have a full-blown panic attack again? Concerned for his state, he hesitantly knocked to get his attention. "Wash? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He didn't sound fine; he sounded like he'd been crying. Annoyed that he was still trying to hide shit, Tucker barged on in without another word. Wash was sitting on the floor next to his bunk, looking over what had obviously been in the mail this morning. He certainly looked like he'd been crying, but he also looked strangely calm.

"What's that?" Tucker figured he had to tread carefully; what had set him off?

"Oh, this? Well... I don't know how it happened. Maybe it was that broadcast Epsilon put out, but he didn't share that much information. Anyways, somehow... my mom found out I was on Chorus."

"Oh." A letter from home... no wonder he seemed so emotional. He didn't know much about Wash's home life; just that he had sisters and was pretty protective of them (Tucker learned that the hard way when he'd asked Wash to 'hook him up'; bad call). Was this good or bad? "What'd she say?"

"The usual; hope you're doing well, we all miss you, try not to get run over again." He laughed, and it finally hit Tucker. Wash was _happy_. He knew the feeling; getting something from Junior after a long time of being away always made him smile. "It's just... she probably thought I was dead for so long, and I couldn't just call home while I was faking my death, but she found out anyway and took the time to send this... God, I really miss her sometimes."

"Hey, we've got all the time in the world, now. How about we go visit sometime? Don't worry, I won't try anything," he assured when Wash gave him 'the Look'. The Freelancer shook his head in exasperation and sighed.

"You know what? That might not be such a bad idea."


	349. Mishpocha

A/N: They say you can't choose your family? Well, you can't choose who you were born to, but you can choose who you call your family.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 15th, Mishpocha_

 _1\. (Yiddish) An entire family network comprising relatives by blood and marriage and sometimes including close friends; clan._

* * *

If Carolina lost another family, she'd break.

Her first family fell apart from a single death. With her mother gone, her father died on the inside. She missed how things used to be, but there was no point being sad about it; it wasn't going to get back what she had lost. Instead, she'd try to take back what she still could, and get her father to notice her again. When she first joined Freelancer, she wasn't expecting things to go so well with her team; she preferred being alone.

Little by little, they grew on her, and she finally felt happy again. Even Wyoming and Florida, as annoying and slightly creepy as they were, had their good points. Now it was all gone again, and she missed what she hadn't realized she had been in danger of losing. She missed North fussing over her, South always trying to compete with her, Maine watching her back, Wyoming's stupid jokes, Florida's odd perspective on things, Connie's inspiring curiosity, and York's...everything. Wash was all she had left, and she essentially traded him for Epsilon when he stopped following her orders. And then she went and lost her brother, the last tie to her flesh-and-blood family.

Her third family was even quirkier than the last one, but it was still good. Caboose was like a big slobbery puppy that you just couldn't bring yourself to hate, Tucker was a surprisingly good conversationalist, Grif and Simmons' banter was hilarious, Sarge was actually pretty funny to watch (looks like she owed Wash ten bucks), Donut was fun to work with if you ignored the innuendos, Lopez liked you as long as you didn't just pretend to understand him, and it was pretty fun to take advantage of the fact that they were scared of how strong she was and mess with them a little.

And it didn't stop there; they'd made so many friends on Chorus that could be considered family too. The young lieutenants had really grown on their captains (yes, even Palomo), Dr. Grey was still the only doctor Wash would let near him, and Kimball had become a trusted confidant over time. Heck, even Locus had earned her trust when he proved how dedicated he was to not killing people anymore and got Wash safely to the hospital, and managed to do it without being seen. She'd have to thank him properly if he ever showed up again. Was he family now? Grif seemed to think so, and Sarge actually seemed to agree.

Well, whatever the case, what they had was certainly something she'd treasure for as long as she lived.


	350. Apopemptic

A/N: This one was a little complicated...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 16th, Apopemptic_

 _1\. Pertaining to leave-taking or departing; valedictory._

 _2\. (Obsolete) A farewell address; valedictory._

* * *

No one ever liked saying goodbye.

There was something final about it. If you said goodbye to someone, it felt like you were never going to see them again. So they chose not to say it, because that way they never had to let go of anyone. But the hardest thing about goodbyes is that despite how painful they are, they are necessary to move forward. One cannot continue to live in the past, clinging to something that is long gone. Learning to let go of something you've lost long ago is an important part of growing up.

Even after Church was gone, Caboose still clung to hope that he would come back. Everyone else knew that this was impossible, but they couldn't bring themselves to say it outright. Then, when a possible chance became known, they immediately latched on to that possibility that he could come back. In the end, it had only been a trap, and Caboose had to suddenly deal with the fact that his best friend was gone forever.

That time machine, while extremely dangerous, did manage to give Caboose exactly what he needed; closure. Church was gone, and he wasn't coming back. He knew that now, and had come to terms with it. Now he just needed to say goodbye and move on. Church wouldn't have wanted him to keep being sad over him. He'd get all angry and yelly again if he knew.

Saying goodbye is not the same as leaving someone behind. It just means that you're going your separate ways. That doesn't mean you have to forget them. You can still think about them, but you can't keep desperately clinging to them. It was time to let go.


	351. Bagatelle

A/N: Okay, what?!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 17th, Bagatelle_

 _1\. Something of little value or importance; a trifle._

 _2\. A game played on a board having holes as one end into which balls are to be struck with a cue._

 _3\. Pinball._

* * *

One man's trash is another man's treasure.

This was a natural fact of life; not everyone valued the same things. While Grif highly valued his daily naps, Sarge believed them to be a waste of time. Tucker and Wash fought over who got the first cup of coffee every morning, while Carolina would calmly sip her tea and sigh at what she perceived to be a waste of effort. The important thing to remember is that everything, no matter how small, is important to someone or something. Nothing is ever completely useless.

Before they became heroes, the Reds and Blues were outcasts dumped in a canyon in the middle of nowhere because nobody wanted them. No one could have imagined just what they were capable of, since they couldn't see the value in a ragtag team of idiots that often got distracted getting into fights about nothing. Individually, they were worth even less, with their insanity, stupidity, laziness, lack of motivation, and various other flaws. But those flaws left them hard to predict, and everyone who underestimated them paid dearly.

But they didn't care about any of that. They valued the fame about as much as anyone would, but what they really valued over everything else was peace and quiet (at least, by their standards). So when offered a reward, all they wanted was someplace where they would be left alone, somewhere that they could get away from all the hassle and just live out a carefree retirement. Carolina had been bored to tears initially, but with a little coaching, she was able to find the value in rest and relaxation as well.

There were still a few things they valued more, but being who they were, they'd never admit it.


	352. Flocculent

A/N: I got to help out at a sheep farm once. They're so soft! And your hands feel so soft after petting them because of the oils!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 18th, Flocculent_

 _1\. Like a clump or tuft of wool._

 _2\. Covered with a soft, woolly substance._

 _3\. Consisting of or containing loose woolly masses._

* * *

How did he do it?

No one knew why, but Caboose had surprisingly soft hair. Donut took such good care of his hair, but even his wasn't as soft as Caboose's. Maybe people only noticed because Caboose was far more likely to allow someone to touch it. He liked being patted when he did something good, and people liked patting him because it just felt nice. Seriously, it was like petting a sheep! And Donut would know; you don't grow up on a farm and not get around to learning what you can and can't stroke!

Whenever he and Caboose were out on their little hang-outs, he'd take every opportunity he could get to touch Caboose's hair. Caboose liked that arrangement too, so he gave Donut as many opportunities as he could. He couldn't just ask Caboose about what he did with his hair to get it like that; he wasn't sure he'd be able to understand the answer. This was the next best thing, and it worked out well for both of them. And it wasn't just him; every now and then, someone would come by and make some excuse to pet him. Donut was just the only one who'd ever be upfront with it.

That was okay; that just meant he got to do it more than anyone else.


	353. Daily-Breader

A/N: How is it that we speak the same language, and yet we use different words?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 19th, Daily-Breader_

 _1\. (British) A commuter._

* * *

Mental note; never let anyone other than Grif drive.

Carolina learned that lesson the hard way. Grif was the best driver of the lot of them, other than her, and it was easy to see why. If you wanted to get anywhere fast, the quickest and safest way was to bribe Grif to take you. Wash refused to go anywhere near a car unless Grif was driving; he just didn't feel safe otherwise, and she could clearly see why. His own bad experiences with cars aside, everyone else was just terrible.

Tucker skipped lessons because he thought they were boring, so he kept slipping up and driving very erratically. Sarge kept speeding and driving off cliffs for whatever reason. Simmons drove way too slow; it took him hours to get anywhere! Donut complained that he couldn't drive; the bumpiness of the road wasn't good for his hips, so he was much more comfortable sitting in someone else's lap. Caboose... well, the less said about his driving the better. Wash, as everyone knew, was a jinx in a car; something horrible would always happen.

Maybe it was just one of those things she'd never get, but how was Grif, who was even lazier than Tucker, a better driver than many professionals she knew? Sure, if it wasn't a car, he still crashed it sometimes, but he was clearly improving. Well, whatever the case, he was the only reliable driver around if anyone needed to get to Chorus if they had an emergency. Like, say, Wash getting hit again because Sarge was waging a war on gravity and just had to get in a jeep for it.

"Did I do something to a car in a past life or something?!"


	354. Facepalm

A/N: Be honest; how many times did you do this watching these idiots?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 20th, Facepalm_

 _1\. The gesture of placing the palm of one's hand across the face, as to express embarrassment, frustration, disbelief, etc. (Often used as an interjection.)_

* * *

How stupid could these guys be?

Einstein once said "Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not too sure about the former." The more time Carolina spent with the Reds and Blues, the more she realized the truth of this statement. She could never say that she had seen it all, because then they'd come up with something even stupider to stump her once again. She really had to stop commenting on it; she kept jinxing herself. At least Wash seemed to know better.

How had he adapted so quickly? He was rolling with the stupidity almost effortlessly! Sure, he still got a little screechy sometimes, but that was just how he was. Maybe the insanity of Freelancer gave him more of a tolerance for crazy shit? Well, the explosions and the shooting really wasn't that different, but aside from that, they were complete opposites. It was kind of like comparing too smart with too stupid.

Every single time something like this happened in public, something that defied all logic, he'd sigh, press his palm to his face, and apologize to whoever they were with. At first it was her, then it was Kimball and Doyle, and now it was these reporters. She wanted to yell at them, but she knew from experience that it wouldn't work. So for now, until she could start rolling with it, she bit her tongue and tried to avoid saying something she'd regret. Something like 'well, this couldn't get any worse'.


	355. Brumal

A/N: Time for the days to get longer again!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 21st, Brumal_

 _1\. Wintry._

* * *

When winter came around, they all preferred to stay inside where it was relatively warm.

For some, it was hatred of the temperature, and choosing to deal with it the best they could. Some just felt depressed because winter always felt so lifeless to them. But for Carolina and Wash, winter brought back too many bad memories. If it was too cold, they couldn't be left alone, or they might end up doing something they regretted. And without Epsilon around, everyone had to get used to noticing Carolina's signs without his help.

With Wash, it was easy. Tucker and Caboose stayed close to him and made sure he didn't sink into his bad place. He still remembered waking up in the infirmary all alone, badly hurt and confused, waiting for someone, anyone, to find him and tell him what was going on. Everyone had left him behind, for one reason or another, and his teammates just couldn't let him go through that again. If he started asking questions, they'd answer as well as they could, helping to anchor him to the present. Caboose's hugs, oddly enough, seemed to help, and he seemed to be doing a lot better than before. He still had a ways to go, though.

Carolina was a bit more difficult to deal with. She'd lash out if someone touched her, so Caboose hugs were a bad idea here (she was still really sorry about tossing him off that cliff, even though he was fine). It was tough to judge what distance was safe and how close they'd have to be to even get her attention. Cliffs spooked her badly, and anyone coming up behind her was guaranteed to be in danger. She was also dealing with the guilt from being forced to abandon Wash for her own safety, but she had no idea how to approach him and deal with it properly.

The cold just made everyone miserable.


	356. Abubble

A/N: Who do we know that's like this all the time?

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 22nd, Abubble_

 _1\. Characterized by intense enthusiasm or activity._

 _2\. Bubbling, as while cooking or boiling._

* * *

How could someone be so goddamn cheerful all the time?!

That was what Church found most annoying about Caboose. No matter what kind of situation he was in, he was always so happy! Church was of the opinion that at their core people were bastard-coated bastards with bastard filling, but Caboose threw that out the window. He never got angry without a good reason, he never went out of his way to be mean to someone for personal gain, and if he did hurt someone, he was always sorry about it (even if he always tried to blame it on Tucker). But the absolute worst thing was having to listen to his positivity all the time.

Caboose _never_ shut up. Like, _ever_. All Church wanted was to be left alone to snark at Tucker or think about how much he hated everything. Caboose kept launching into his personal bubble with hugs and childish babbling that he could only half understand. He honestly missed the relative peace and quiet from before; he'd never get it back with the dumb rookie always dogging his steps. Tucker thought it was pretty funny; fuck that guy.

Seriously, that much positivity should be illegal; it was making him physically ill.


	357. Blithesome

A/N: I guess all these happy words are to get people in the mood for the holidays.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 23rd, Blithesome_

 _1\. Lighthearted; merry; cheerful._

* * *

How the hell were they always so happy?!

It seemed each team had their own endless spring of optimism and happiness. For the Blues, it was Caboose, and the Reds had Donut. They were both annoying in their own ways, and both teams would spend days arguing over which of the two was more annoying if they could. The sheer positivity was just too much for the assholes, and they did everything they could to try and get them to stop being so happy all the time. At least, that was how it worked at first.

Eventually, they decided that it was impossible to bring them down, and continuing to try was pointless. Sure, they sniped at them from time to time, but somehow, they could give as good as they got without losing their spirit. That earned the two a little respect in their books, but only as much as they gave each other. They had come to accept that this natural positivity just came with the package, and they were going to have to deal with it, whether they liked it or not.

...Well, they didn't really hate it anymore. Not like they'd ever say it out loud.


	358. Propine

A/N: So excited!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 24th, Propine_

 _1\. (Scot) To offer as a present._

 _2\. (Scot) A present; gift._

* * *

Caboose was the only one who ever really bothered to give presents.

It wasn't that the others didn't care about the holidays; they did. It was just that living in a war zone (supposedly) made it difficult to get a hold of presents. Caboose didn't have the easiest time either, but he had the advantage of hand-making everything he gave. Sure, it didn't always look the best, but it was the thought that counted. Anything was better than nothing, after all.

Every single time, he'd manage to find some way to make something that he could give everyone, even the Reds. And he never asked for much in return; just some cookies, and Donut could make those no problem. And it wasn't just Christmas or birthdays either; he went out of his way to make eight presents for Church for Hanukkah, and even made Kwanzaa presents for Doc. He even sent Junior something nice any chance he could, which Tucker appreciated. As more people got involved with them, Caboose made more and more presents to give to all his new friends.

Carolina had been pleasantly surprised to get Hanukkah presents; Tucker had guessed, but how had Caboose known? She eventually decided to chalk it up to another of Caboose's odd talents, like being able to accurately guess when someone's birthday was.


	359. Yule

A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Kwanzaa, whatever you celebrate, may it be happy!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 25th, Yule_

 _1\. Christmas, or the Christmas season._

* * *

Holidays really were the best.

No matter what you were celebrating, you were spending time with people you could tolerate for reasons no one really cared about. All people cared about these days was the commercial value of holidays; buying presents, eating good food, and sending cards to people you barely knew just to let them know that they crossed your mind for however little time they did. But any excuse to celebrate was a good one, so even if they didn't celebrate holidays normally, they did now.

Carolina had never been to a Christmas party before (though she had dragged York out of a couple when he was too drunk to walk). Tucker had said she didn't have to be Christian to spend time with them when they just so happened to be celebrating something she didn't celebrate, so she decided to stick around for it. And if Caboose decided to give her some presents even though she wasn't celebrating, well, it would be rude to turn him down, wouldn't it. And it wasn't like she could let Donut's cooking go to waste (even though Grif would eat half of it). So, while she never thought she'd ever spend any time at a Christmas party, here she was.

It was actually pretty nice. Sarge wasn't threatening anyone, Grif was actually trying to save some food for the others, Tucker and Caboose weren't fighting, and even Wash was in a good mood. Something about it being a holiday got everyone's spirits up, and brought everyone together to celebrate, even if they didn't always get along. It was a picturesque moment of peace.


	360. Afterglow

A/N: I've only heard this word used in regards to sex before.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 26th, Afterglow_

 _1\. The pleasant remembrance of a past experience, glory, etc._

 _2\. The glow frequently seen in the sky after sunset; afterlight._

 _3\. A second or secondary glow, as in heated metal before it ceases to become incandescent._

* * *

If York had to pick Carolina's best feature, it would have to be her smile.

She didn't smile often, which was a real shame in his books. She always looked amazing, but everything about her just seemed to glow when she smiled. He even told her that once, but she brushed him off like she didn't think he was being serious about it. Well, he was, so there! When it came to her, he was always serious. And it was even better when she was laughing, too. He'd gotten pretty good at getting her to laugh at him dumb jokes, all carefully crafted to keep her from getting too stressed out. Stress was bad for the heart, the mind, and the skin after all. He told her that once, and while he did get punched for it, it was worth it to catch her trying to hide her smile.

He knew something was wrong when it stopped working. Her rivalry with Tex took priority over everything else. Every moment was spent trying to find ways to beat her, even though the only one who saw it as a competition was her. No matter what he did, she'd brush him aside or yell at him, her smiles were less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. Her tenuous grip on her sanity made her dangerous, but he still had to try and get through to her. Tex agreed with him on that front, which wasn't surprising; while Carolina loathed her, Tex at least respected her determination.

Whatever it took to see her smile again, he'd do it.


	361. Pinguid

A/N: One particular moment popped into my mind after reading this.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 27th, Pinguid_

 _1\. Fat; oily._

* * *

Grif was not going to change his diet, no matter what anyone said.

So what if Church thought he was 'greasy'? Who cared what he thought about anyone? He was an asshole, end of story; even Church himself admitted that. Then again, Church wasn't the only one who thought that. Fat, greasy, gross, he'd heard it all his life. He knew it came from how much he ate and the kinds of food he ate, but he wasn't changing that, so he'd just have to tolerate what they said. It was his body, and he wasn't complaining, so he wasn't going to let what they said get him down.

It was simple; he ate what he ate because it made him happy. Everyone understood at least that much. They all did what they did because it made them happy, and if someone told them it was bad, they could fuck off. Tucker could masturbate all he wanted, Donut could do his weird shit all he wanted, Simmons could be nerdy all he wanted, and even though the others would complain, they were not going to stop. It was the same with him and eating. Heck, even the Freelancers had stuff they did that the others complained about that they weren't going to stop doing.

That was the good thing about not caring; you could do whatever you want with no worries. Grif was just too lazy to care about what people thought of him, and he was damn proud of it.


	362. Tabernacle

A/N: Urgh... religion. I'm still annoyed from having to go to midnight mass on Christmas Eve. I keep choking on the incense.

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 28th, Tabernacle_

 _1\. Any place or house of worship, especially one designed for a large congregation._

 _2\. The portable sanctuary in use by the Israelites from the time of their wandering in the wilderness after the Exodus from Egypt to the building of the Temple of Jerusalem by Solomon._

* * *

He always felt most at peace with her around.

Of course, from the outside, it never seemed like that. The shouting matches between Church and Tex had become one of the many routine annoyances around Blood Gulch. But if they were serious about their arguments, Tex would have punched Church in the balls and left him years ago. Only leaving for a few days to 'have some space' and yelling at him when he pushed her too far wasn't nearly as bad as everyone seemed to think it was. Maybe they were just weird; he couldn't deny that possibility.

Regardless, she was his sanctuary in this crazy, fucked-up life. Whenever she was there, he was much less tired, and that was always a plus. She even helped out if she noticed he was having trouble sleeping, though not without a fair share of snark. She made him feel safe; no one else could do that like she could. And the reverse was also true; Church kept Tex grounded when she got too hot-headed, letting her know in his own way when she was going to do something incredibly stupid. He was usually right, of course (stupid genius), but she was never going to admit it, and they both knew it. He could take her yelling like no one else could, and give as good as he got right back. This helped her to calm down more easily when things got rough.

But she knew that as long as they kept clinging to each other, they'd never be able move on in life. The world was more than just the two of them, and while she had accepted that long ago, he was still having trouble. She'd still help him if she could, but someday they'd have to go their separate ways. For now, though, she was going to make the most of the short time together they'd have. She'd protect him for as long as she could, but she wouldn't coddle him. That would only make it harder when the inevitable goodbye finally came.


	363. Bedizen

A/N: Wow... just wow...

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 29th, Bedizen_

 _1\. To dress or adorn in a showy, gaudy, or tasteless manner._

* * *

"That's the last time I make bets with you."

"You say that every time."

There was a reason that rule number one of the unofficial rules of Freelancer was 'never make bets with York'. The guy never made any bets he thought he could lose, which lead to a 99% chance of losing for anyone stupid enough to go in against him (the remaining 1% was reserved for the one time Carolina had outsmarted him). But it seemed no one could resist the thrill of trying, so people kept doing it, which led to some crazy shenanigans. And this particular case was no exception. It seemed neither of the twins had the figure to look good in dresses.

South couldn't stop laughing at her poor brother's misfortune. North clearly looked uncomfortable, and everyone could see why. It seemed York had gone out of his way to find the frilliest dress possible for their little wager. That would be hard for anyone to sit in, much less a tall guy like North. Wash didn't seem to know where to look, and CT was probably hiding somewhere taking pictures for her not-so-secret blackmail stash. York just seemed to be soaking up the glory of another successful wager, and just couldn't stop smirking.

It was telling how common of an occurrence this was when Carolina walked in, took one look at the scene before her, and just shrugged and went back to whatever she was doing.


	364. Whoop-De-Do

A/N: Getting ready for the grand finale!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 30th, Whoop-De-Do_

 _1\. (Informal) Lively and noisy festivities._

 _2\. (Informal) Heated discussion or debate, especially in public._

* * *

Rule number one of parties was to never let Caboose near any fireworks.

Seriously, half of these guys should never have been given a gun, much less explosives, but especially Caboose. You didn't let him play with explosives the same way you didn't let small children play with explosives. But if Tucker took his eyes off of Caboose for too long, he'd find a way to play with the grenades or something and there would be another explosion. This time, when everyone was getting ready for New Year's, Carolina and Wash took shifts on guard duty. Even if he managed to slip away from Tucker, he'd never make it past them.

Part of it was to make sure he didn't get hurt, but part of it was to keep the fireworks intact. It had been way too long since any of them had had a proper New Year's celebration with fireworks. They'd managed to get a supply from Chorus, and now they just needed to make sure they made it. They'd been planning this party for weeks now; December was just the month of partying and celebrating, so they'd been sure to plan everything in advance. All that was left was the grand finale; something to make sure the old year went out with a bang.

Just hopefully not prematurely, Carolina thought as she caught Caboose trying to sneak around the corner. It really helped that he sucked at sneaking.


	365. Auld Lang Syne

A/N: Well, this was a lot of fun, but all good things end someday. This was a real roller coaster of a challenge; some words I had to tweak to get them to work, some I had difficulty understanding, and my move at the end of July delayed things a lot longer than I would have liked. But, all in all, I'm satisfied with the results of my work, and I'm glad so many people were able to enjoy it.

But now, _I_ challenge _you._

This idea of writing something everyday for a year based around different words is something that I hadn't seen anywhere, and I think it's an interesting concept, so I decided to try it and see how it would turn out. It was great; better than I had hoped! And even though I might not be doing this again next year, I'd like to see someone do it. Whatever fandom you think will work for you, however long you want to make them, I'm sure your efforts will be worthwhile. On that note, thanks to everyone who faved, alerted, and reviewed! Your comments are much appreciated!

Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.

 **Words as Feelings**

 _December 31st, Auld Lang Syne_

 _1\. (Scot and North England) Old times, especially times fond remembered._

 _2\. (Scot and North England) Old or long friendship._

* * *

They'd really come a long way.

Looking at everyone now, they'd all changed so much compared to who they were at the start. Sure, some of their more annoying traits, like Grif's laziness and Sarge's paranoia, were still present, but they'd still managed to improve so much compared to before. Grif was willing to put in effort if it meant helping his friends (he'd still never call them that in public, but it was the thought that counts) and Sarge had stopped trying to shoot at anything blue he saw (these days he just glared and grumbled to himself).

And it was no different for the rest, either. Tucker had needed to deal with responsibilities that he didn't want being thrown at him, but he used that to grow as a person. Sure, the sex jokes and complaining were still there, but he was a lot more grown-up than he was before. Caboose had managed to learn a lot even through his unfortunate handicap of AI-induced brain damage, it was just interpreted in a way that only he could understand. Simmons was a lot more comfortable expressing himself, even around Sarge and Carolina. Donut had managed to surprise a lot of people in good ways instead of bad ones. Lopez learned that not all humans were total wastes of space, and showed the proper respect to those that weren't.

This was best shown, however, with the Freelancers. Both had started suspicious, untrusting, and quick to anger, with a bit of a superiority complex for good measure. Now Wash was pretty much one of the guys, and Carolina was well on her way. There had been so many ups and downs to get to this point, but all of it led them to become better people. And who knew what weird and wacky adventures would await them in the new year? Only time would tell.

To think, it all started with two groups of idiots in a boxed canyon pondering the mysteries of life.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever wonder why we're here?"

"Well, there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Wash, that's fucking corny."

"Shush! It's starting!"

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!"

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"


End file.
